


The 12 Days of Christmas - Assassin's Creed

by Luthienberen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Masturbation, Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Redemption, Threesome, Weddings, templar!Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets based on (a rather loose interpretation) the 12 Days of Christmas. A mixture of gen, het and slash, with a heavy pro-Templar bent. Spoilers for games: AC, AC2, ACIII and AC4! </p><p>Day 1- Desmond, gen,<br/>Day 2- Haytham/Charles, wedding Modern!AU<br/>Day 3 - Ben Hornigold, Julien du Casse, Woodes Rogers, gen, hints of slash<br/>Day 4 - Edward Kenway/Stede Bonnet<br/>Day 5: John Pitcairn, William Johnson, Charles Lee, Haytham Kenway, Thomas Hickey, gen<br/>Day 6: Ezio, Claudia, Petruccio and Federico Auditore, gen, family bonding; Ziio and Connor<br/>Day 7: Edward Kenway/James Kidd<br/>Day 8: What if Charles and the others arrived after Washington set fire to the village..?  Haytham, child!Connor, Charles: Gen, father-son bonding, friendship<br/>Day 9: Washington discovers that Connor is not as innocent as he seems. washcon!<br/>Day 10: Charles misreads Connor’s obsession with trying to find him and now Connor has to deal with Charles feelings. CRACK.<br/>Day 11: Charles and Thomas worship the Grandmaster as he deserves, or at least Charles shows the proper reverence, Thomas as usual is a dick about it. </p><p>Day 12: GEN. They had won. It was over. The future had arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A man’s reward

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says, I'm attempting the 12 Days with an Assassin's Creed bent. So far, the following days have an outline: 
> 
> Day 1: Desmond, gen.  
> Day 2: Haytham/Charles – modern!AU, slash  
> Day 3: Julien du Casse, Woodes Rogers and Ben Hornigold  
> Day 4: Edward Kenway/Stede Bonnet, slash  
> Day 5: John Pitcairn, William Johnson, Charles Lee, Haytham Kenway, Thomas Hickey, gen
> 
>  
> 
> _Not beta-read so apologies for mistakes! I'm willing to consider requests for the remaining days as well, as long as it's not incest or anti-Charles Lee!_
> 
>  
> 
> * * *

_On the First Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…A Partridge in a Pear Tree_

 

Desmond blinked.

_Where was he?_

The last thing he remembered was touching the pedestal and brief but searing agony. The knowledge he activated the device was a distant ache, the burden of his decision lifting as he stood in this peculiar field full of waving wheat.

Desmond only experienced relief that he had at least given the world a chance, his father, Rebecca and Shaun were more than capable of ensuring that chance was as big as possible.

“Grandson.”

That voice was familiar, if not the epithet.

_But how? Here?_

Desmond turned from surveying the golden fields and saw a tall slender man, dressed in white robes in front of him. The hood was drawn back and Desmond’s throat closed.

“Grandson, why are standing here all alone? Don’t you wish to explore?”

Somehow Desmond got his voice to work. “Altair?”

The Assassin smiled. “Yes.”

“But how?”

Altair laughed, a strange experience for Desmond. “Haven’t you guessed Desmond? We are in Paradise.”

“What?”

“The afterlife, heaven...whichever word is more familiar to you.”

Desmond swallowed and looked around. Endless azure sky, yellow wheat and a sweet smell that wafted on the gentle warm breeze. The scent…Desmond hissed.

A tree stood in the distance and even from where he stood, Desmond could see that it bore to bursting fruits of every kind: pears, apples, oranges, persimmons, lemons and so much more.

“Eden..?”

Altair’s heavy hand on his shoulder startled Desmond and he saw the tender expression in the dark brown eyes. It was strange yet reassuring.

“If you wish. Here everything is possible and only healing and joy exists. Rest grandson, you have done your duty. The others must do theirs.”

Nodding, Desmond asked, “Are my other ancestors here? What else is here?”

“Let me show you. And yes, grandson, they are all here, even Templars, for as I have discovered we are not so different in some respects.”

Desmond said nothing, too overawed.

Walking he could only touch the wheat, peer at the overflowing bountiful tree of life and stare at the endless sky, with his grandfather’s voice echoing in his ears.

He could rest at last. Heal. Meet his family.

_Good luck Shaun and Rebecca, I’m waiting for you._

_* * *  
_

_(I had to give _Desmond_ a happy ending *sniff*)_


	2. A Natural Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haytham Kenway & Charles Lee get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haytham Kenway/Charles Lee – chaytham – A modern!AU. Thomas Point of View.

_On the Second Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…two_ _Turtle Doves_

 

It was inevitable that they were standing here in Thomas Hickey’s opinion. Not that anyone asked for his opinion of course, but if they had then he would have said it was blatantly obvious that one day they would be standing at the wedding of Haytham Kenway and Charles Lee.

Charlie had always been absolutely ga-ga over Haytham, ever since the Grandmaster had arrived in Boston. The man had espoused so much on how the grandmaster was simply the best swordsman, tactician and honourable Templar ever that Thomas had at one point started filtering Charles out. It was either that or drink beyond even his own reasoning or leave the room; either one which would have William or Haytham reaming him out.

Haytham meanwhile…that had taken longer, but Thomas had quickly noticed how Haytham poured a lot of responsibility on Charles, when they had just met and then during the early months of their acquaintance. It was significant, because even though Charles hadn’t been a Templar at that point, Haytham had displayed a great deal of trust in Charles’ abilities and more importantly, his silence.

Then when Charlie was initiated into the Order, Haytham upped the ante and not long after announced that Charles was his second-in-command.

Thomas still had the tear-stained jacket from where Charles, after a night of celebration, had sobbed ‘how happy he was’.

So yeah…he wasn’t at all surprised.

Thomas still recalled how matters came to a head and Haytham had _finally_ got his act together and put them all out of their misery: he proposed to Charles.

\- - - 

_Five months ago_

The club was noisy, crowded and hot. It was teaming with youth who were wearing decidedly far too little and drinking peculiarly coloured beverages.

 _Where’s the beer?_ wondered Thomas.

William appeared to be thinking along the same lines as he shifted uncomfortably, the leather upholstery not a good mix with the heat in the club.

“Do you think this place sells beer? It seems to cater for a rather young clientele who favour cocktails and other strange alcoholic clashes.”

John who was at the end of the semi-circular booth they had claimed glanced around, wiping one hand over his forehead. He was dressed in a shirt, tie and jacket with pressed trousers and shiny shoes. _Way over attired really_ , thought Thomas.

“Maybe, a lot of teenagers are fond of beer, even if it’s the cheap kind.”

“Wot? This fancy lot?” Thomas snorted and scratched his neck. He had a simple t-shirt on matched with jeans, still too hot, but not as sweltering as John or William, (who also was clad in a shirt and tie ensemble).

“They’re probably in their late twenties and obsessed with the appearance of sophistication. That doesn’t allow for ‘beer’; unless it’s some expensive crap.”

William rolled his eyes. “Charming as ever Thomas.”

“But I’m right.”

William sighed, “Unfortunately so.”

“Where’s Charlie anyway? He went for our drinks fifteen minutes ago.”

“Charles isn’t here?”

Thomas yelped and frowned at Haytham who had just arrived and looked impeccable as always in a jumper and tie combination and again with the pressed trousers and shiny black shoes. 

Thomas shook his head. They were out of the office, what was wrong with his brethren? 

“Yes, but he said he would buy our drinks,” replied William.

Haytham half-turned so he could see the bar, it was however, concealed by a huge press of bodies, all clamouring for the poison of choice. 

“I suspect Charles has been detained by the number of people. Thomas go and check.”

Thomas groaned, but at Haytham’s cold gaze quickly stood and began to make his way across the room. He heard before the noise swallowed his companions, Haytham ask, “Where is Charles sitting?”

“To my left,” was John’s answer.

Ignoring the antics behind, Thomas tried pushing past the swell of youngsters who looked at him curiously and in a few instances stared appreciatively. Thomas might have chased, but he was aware of Haytham orders and Thomas wasn’t stupid: those who disobeyed Haytham, without good reason, were punished depending on the seriousness of the matter.

And Thomas really didn’t want to entertain the idea of not finding Charles as ordered, if Haytham willingly sent Charles away when bloodthirsty assassins were on the way to face them alone, then he wouldn’t be pleased if Thomas dallied with interested parties – definitely not a good reason.

So, with reluctance, but a true desire to preserve his skin, Thomas went on only to almost walk into Charles.

“Whoa, Charlie!” Thomas grabbed the tray in Charles hands that had nearly tipped over at their collision.

“Thanks Thomas.” 

_Huh?_ Thomas looked at Charles in confusion. Charles tended to react a little well, more intensely, when it came to Thomas so this frankly dull response was startling.

Charles carefully rebalanced the tray in his hands, checking the drinks hadn’t spilled. Thomas noted how flushed Charles’ cheeks were, the perspiration beading his forehead and even his normally tidy hair was mussed.

Actually, come to think about it, Thomas glanced at Charles clothes. His jacket hung open to display a ruffled shirt and askew collar. Concern welled in Thomas.

“Are you okay Charlie? You seem a bit flustered.”

Charles blue eyes widened and they seemed brighter than normal. “No,” he stammered, “why should I be?”

 _Because you should be snapping at me as always?_ thought Thomas, but what he _said_ was, “Haytham is here and asked me to check on you.”

“Haytham’s here?” Part pleasure and part alarm. Thomas began to consider conspiracy theories ‘cause Charlie was one step away from passing out from how highly strung he was acting.

Charles suddenly shoved the tray into the hands the glasses shaking. “Hold this while I order myself.”

Thomas watched open-mouthed as Charles hurriedly adjusted his collar, smoothed his shirt and attempted to button his jacket half-way. He even tried using his fingers to pet his hair back into place. Nervously rubbing his hand over his moustache, Charles asked anxiously, “Do I look fine now?”

“Um, sure Charlie. You certain everything is okay?”

Charles laughed, a strange tone to his voice, “Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?”

He reclaimed the tray and nodded, “Lead on Thomas.”

“Yeah, sure, Charlie,” shaking his head Thomas turned and escorted Charles back to their seat in a concealed booth near the rear of the room. Thomas was proud of his discovery.

While the club wasn’t where any of them would visit, it fitted the requirements perfectly: a location the assassins wouldn’t believe they would frequent while still reasonably close to Templar Headquarters.

It took them a couple of minutes to reach their table as they had to elbow people aside so that Charles could navigate safely and not drop his tray.

John stood when they approached. “We thought we would have to send a search party after Thomas,” his eyes twinkled.

“Sod off,” snorted Thomas good-naturedly, “we had it under control didn’t we Charlie?”

Charles nodded, putting the tray down and picking up a glass of beer, “Yes, we did. You’ll all be happy to know that they _do_ serve beer, though it has a peculiar name. William, here’s yours and Pitcairn and don’t fret Thomas, he’s a glass – large – for you.”

Thomas grinned, “Ah, that’s talking now.” Thomas nudged William, “here, move so I can sit down.”

William rolled his eyes but shifted down and Thomas quickly sat, holding his beer eagerly.

Charles looked across at Haytham. Thomas watched with interest. Charles still appeared collected, but there was a slight tremble to his lips, Haytham must have noticed for he kept his shoulders stiff and gaze assessing. Charles obviously sensed this too, he knew Haytham better than Thomas.

Thomas could tell though that William was oblivious while John had clearly caught something weird in the air. He hadn’t offered to move and was causally sweeping the club with his stare, but scrutinising Haytham and Charles out of the corner of his right eye.

“I have beer for us as well as they don’t sell wine or tea.”

Haytham inclined his head. “Then we must endure. Come, sit Charles.”

Charles was about push in beside John when Haytham frowned, “John, move so Charles can enter the booth.”

Haytham meant, ‘sit beside me’. Thomas gulped some beer, it tasted odd but wasn’t too bad and smiled as John rose and allowed Charles to ease past him so he could sink into place next to Haytham.

“What happened at the bar Charles? You were gone longer than we thought possible.” 

William had blatantly decided to ignore the drama in front of him, probably to save himself from the torture of acknowledging the unresolved sexual tension (and from Charles’ corner - hero worship) for the sake of his sanity.

Thomas and John had to be sadists then, or after seeing Charles’ earlier state bloody curious.

Charles ran a finger down his glass, “Oh, just terribly crowded. The twenty-somethings have no idea of decorum.”

“Hardly surprising,” commented Haytham, sipping his beer and grimacing. “Do not drink this Charles. You will be ill.”

“Yes sir.”

“Haytham.”

“Haytham,” repeated Charles softly, voice like silver. Haytham smiled, a touch of fondness leaking into the curve of his lips.

The abrupt clatter of the band in the corner changing over to a new awful DJ broke the moment.

“Gentlemen,” Haytham’s voice cut through the din and all the Templars straightened. The Grandmaster had a flash of annoyance in his eyes at the interruption, but otherwise oozed calm.

“You know why we are here this evening; now, first to meet a potential informant who should help consolidate our plans in our last move against the Assassin Brotherhood and secondly to celebrate our victory in gaining a piece of…ah, ‘paradise’ if you will.”

All of them nodded. They were so close, the reality was almost touchable.

“So, raise your glasses and relax for a little while. There are men watching the front and back to ensure our informant isn’t followed and to warn us of the arrival.”

“Cheers!”

Glasses clinked though in Haytham and Charles’ case they only allowed the beer to wet their lips. Haytham draped an arm over Charles shoulders and bent his head close so that they could converse without having to strain.

John reclined and looking at Thomas asked, “Not going to dance Thomas? No one caught your eye?”

“Plenty, but I was on a mission,” Thomas inclined his head to Charles, “had to finish first, and I don’t think Haytham will be too happy if I head for the floor.”

John grinned, “True, admirable the restraint you are showing Thomas.”

“He can when he wants to,” inserted William, “shame he doesn’t more often.”

Thomas punched William in the arm, no proper weight in it. “Hey.”

William just laughed and continued drinking eyeing the milling crowd with the eye of a researcher.

“See anything interesting?”

“Much Thomas, and no time to record it all.”

Thomas shrugged and polished off the last of his beer. “Okay next round on me.”

Haytham looked up at that, “I trust you will not have more than two glasses Thomas while still officially on duty?”

“Nope!”

“Good,” Haytham turned to John, “Go with him.”

“Awww…”

Haytham’s cold eyes stopped Thomas and he swallowed, Haytham was damn scary when he went all still and distant like that. “Yeah, John, needs two of us. Charlie was overcome by himself.”

At Charles mortified flush, Thomas winced. _Oops._

Haytham swung back to Charles, so close his breath had to be ghosting over Charles’ flesh.

“What happened Charles?”

Charles bright blue eyes reflected like clear crystal pools of water, his emotions evident. 

Charlie was alarmed and embarrassed. 

“Just had a little trouble with another patron. However, he backed off after I discouraged him.”

Haytham’s voice was low and his words very precise. The hair rose on the back of Thomas’ arms. Even John and William were quiet, watchful and bodies tense, ready for action.

“What did he do that you had to discourage him Charles?”

Charles flushed, sweat on his forehead, and he bit his lip as he answered, “He…ah…asked if I was here by myself and when I replied in the negative he simply changed tracks. I was waiting at the bar and couldn’t afford to cause a scene so when he put his arm around me,” Thomas saw Haytham’s knuckles go white and lips thin, “and um kissed my jaw I elbowed him.”

John must have thought that Haytham was prepared to leap up and kill this man, for he sat down and propped up his legs. William meanwhile, grabbed Haytham’s right arm. Dangerous, but effective for Haytham was a coiled snake ready to strike.

“And then?”

Charles licked his lips, an action Haytham followed. “He persisted, the bastard and in a panic sir…Haytham, I said I had a boyfriend and that he would be very angry to find him touching me. Mentioned he was a black belt. I am at least convincing at persuading people, so it worked. He left me alone. I thought it prudent to return quickly and well, Thomas met me as I was trying to rush to derail further pursuit.”

Haytham reached with his right hand and touched Charles’ jaw, running his fingers along the line, “Where?” he murmured.

Charles’s voice was faint, “My right.”

Haytham stroked the area, eyes angry and possessive. “He had no right to touch you. You don’t belong to him. You’re _mine_.”

Charles couldn’t even speak, just gaze at Haytham with crazy hope and longing.

Haytham slid his hand around Charles’ neck, tugging him forward and kissed him hard. 

_“Whoa, fucking finally.”_ Thomas smirked.

“Thomas,” hissed William with a disapproving stare while John just waved a hand. “He’s right.”

Haytham finished kissing Charles and pulled back to study a rather dazed Templar. Charles was gazing at Haytham in such adoration that Thomas felt uneasy, it was like they were intruding.

“Should have done this long ago Charles.” Haytham stroked Charles’ cheek, fingertips tracing his moustache. “I will correct that now.”

Removing the amulet from his neck Haytham put it about Charles who now was confused.

“Haytham?” Charles examined the amulet.

“Please accept this as a stand-in for a ring.”

John choked over thin air. Charles looked up, hardly processing the situation.

Thomas watched in awe as Haytham asked steadily, “Will you marry me?”

Charles had tears on his cheeks, as he gasped, “Yes I will.” Eagerly, if clumsily, Charles leaned forward and kissed Haytham who laughed and returned the gesture.

“Now Charles, point out your assailant for your restraint did you proud, but I assure you, I will not allow him to escape unscathed once our mission is over.”

At such an command Charles had no choice but to condemn the unwise fellow, not that Thomas felt sympathy for him, he was defensive too and happy for Charles.

\- - - 

So, those events had brought them here, the wedding of Haytham Kenway, Grandmaster of the Templar Order in America and his second-in-Command, Charles Lee.

The five of them stood in a room within Abstergo Headquarters. Windows on the right displayed a pretty view of the café on the floor below, full of gushing fountains, sparkling water and flowers and plants.

The room itself was simple: wooden chairs were placed in lines facing a solid wooden table that had a ledger on it with pens and not much else. The walls were painted a stone effect, granting the illusion of being in an old Temple somewhere.

Even the lights replicated this, flickering like torch light.

Thomas rolled his shoulders, his suit was uncomfortable, his cloak clasp biting into his neck. Damnit, he ought to have taken John up on his offer to adjust his clothes. 

Haytham and Charles were in front of the table and the civil officer who would perform the marriage, an employee of Abstergo naturally. Thomas was on their right, while William as Best Man was to Haytham’s left, holding a black box. John was just behind William. No one else was present, this was for the inner circle only.

A more widespread celebration would be granted, as Haytham had generously supplied treats for the staff and even a shorter day. Thomas had to hand it to the warrior, he knew how to charm people and keep them content.

Charles was flushed with happiness; his blue eyes were even clearer and more piercing than usual. Haytham was composed, yet his expression was softer and there was a glint in his grey eyes that spoke of pleasure.

The civil officer cleared his throat and began his speech. Thomas’ mind wandered as he waited for the important part. He discreetly pulled at his gloves and wondered how Haytham and Charles were so relaxed in their outfits.

Charles in particular had to wear ornamented gloves, heavy boots and around his neck was a scarf of ivory hue, delicate golden thread interwoven. Haytham had been insistent, wishing Charles to have the best. Otherwise, they both wore the same.

Two turtle doves were emblazoned on their white shirts in gold thread and again on their crimson suits, but in pure white; for while neither Haytham or Charles were sappy romantics, Templars were very serious about symbolism.

Haytham had once commented that words had power and to use them wisely, the same applied to images. Turtle doves stood for faithful love, enduring and for life. So, for a Templar and his partner, or two Templars, to wear these birds on their wedding day it was a public promise and display of their commitment, of their devotion and seriousness.

It signalled they would devote their lives to this bond and expected to be held accountable to that oath of love and fidelity. Then white for new beginnings and crimson for their Order, for passion, for love.

Over this Haytham and Charles wore long white cloaks, woven from simple cloth and a red Templar cross stitched on the left just above their hearts. It was how their Order had begun, from poor monks into warrior knights defending pilgrims and developing into the protectors of the world, as they thought of themselves.

Thomas’ reverie was shattered with the commencement of the vows:

“Do you both swear to faithfully fulfil your duties to each other and never leave the other wanting?”

“I do.” “I do.”

“Do you both swear never to be disloyal or indulge in matters that could undermine your bond?”

“I do.” “I do.”

“And to hold to each other in sickness and death, and whatever else may befall you?”

“I do.” “I do.”

Haytham already was holding out his hand. William opened the box and Haytham removed both rings. They were gold and…Thomas leant closer. “Wow…”

Charles seemed just as impressed. The ring was flat and still bore a Templar cross, but also had a motto inscribed in cursive script, “In duty and love forever.”

Silently, Haytham slipped on Charles and with shaking hands Charles did the same for Haytham.

“You may kiss.”

At the concession Haytham drew Charles to him and without pause kissed him. 

Thomas grinned, shouting, “Congratulations!”

The fact that both men ignored him simply made Thomas start laughing. “Thomas!” exclaimed William.

“Hey,” Thomas waved his hand, “its hilarious okay? Mr Cool and Collected is devouring poor Charles.”

John simply raised an eyebrow, “Indeed Thomas.”

Haytham broke off and Charles sucked in much needed breath, both of them were flushed. “I believe gentlemen,” murmured Haytham, “we are finished here. Let’s celebrate.”

Charles pulled away reluctantly and straightened his cloak. “I’ve arranged drinks and a meal in our office, Haytham.”

Haytham smiled. “Good.” Putting an arm around Charles, he held him close as they led the way from the room, “We shall drink a toast together as brethren should. Then we’ll leave you alone gentlemen.”

“Don’t say it!” snapped Charles, twisting to glare at Thomas. Thomas smirked. “I don’t have to.”

With that the three of them escorted Haytham and Charles to the upper offices so they could party in style.

Thomas swaggered along loved being right.


	3. A Conversation between Three Templars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Hornigold considers his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julien du Casse, Woodes Rogers and Ben Hornigold – gen, hints of slash, AU.  
> Ben’s POV
> 
> ***Please be aware there are spoilers for ACIV ahead by dint of the fact it is an AU!*** This 'chapter' is more loosely connected to the Third Day of Christmas.

* * *

_On the Third Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…three_ _French Hens_

 

Ben sighed and put his feet up on the low table, glancing around at his surroundings. The Manor grounds were extensive and lush, well-trimmed and the view of the bay was superb.

A tankard was placed down beside his boot and Ben grabbed it. The taste of the beer was refreshing, holding it appeared the promise of the future.

He turned to his companion. “So, how did you manage to keep this hideout from Edward? He’s a dangerous bastard and I can’t hold many men living once he’s decided to kill them.”

Julien du Casse laughed and took a swig, “The Father of Understanding must have been looking out for me.”

Ben snorted, “The day I met Rogers I thought the Templars had something about them, but I didn’t realise your creed also protected you from murdering bastards.”

Julien smiled, his black hat low on his head, casting a shadow over his face. “Our Order is a realisation that the world requires order and that ultimately chaos leads to ruin. You saw that truth and turned your life from the black path of the pirate, now you shall be part of our new order. Edward…well, even though he had an opportunity to see our purpose, he lusted too much for gold and couldn’t lay aside a life of self-want, foolish dog.”

Ben shrugged, “Edward was a bird who couldn’t be tamed. Like the eagle he flew from harbour to harbour. You could never capture him, shame though. He was a clever bird.”

“Indeed.”

Ben and Julien sprang to their feet, Woodes had joined them. He waved and they all sat down. A breeze ruffled the feathers in Julien’s hat and Ben watched as Julien leaned back to catch some of that cooler air, his shirt showing the sweat on his bared muscled chest.

“Edward wasn’t able to see that we wished to wield power for the betterment of mankind. Freedom without rules is chaos, the assassins don’t realise this and Edward, rushing around like their wild animal, was a perpetrator of this disease.”

“I guess Woodes,” commented Ben. He looked again at his surroundings; it was beautiful and strange not to have to rush about on the high seas, hoping for plunder. The men he conversed with were educated and fervent in their cause, before he had only known men – been one of them – whose only devotion was to gold and rum.

It was relaxing and a huge relief. Already adhering to order and bettering the lives of others was changing him. Ben was…peaceful. He wasn’t looking to fill his empty life through a succession of bars and riches, which through their temporary nature satisfaction always eluded him.

These Templars though? They had offered him salvation. Now he was a Templar and their cause was worth fighting for and offered a fulfilment Ben could taste all the way to his belly, warm and full as it was.

Smiling at his companions Ben raised his tankard, “To peace brothers. Thank you for showing me the errors of my ways.”

Julien laughed and held up his flask, Woodes looking amused followed suit.

“Welcome Ben, may the Father guide you in your new life.”

Woodes spoke with passion, “And we are glad you have repented, we need men of calibre like yours.”

Beer was spilt as they clanked glasses. Chuckling, all three men drank. Julien was the first to lower his and set it on the glossy table, his smile predatory.

He spoke low and seductive, “And I think we will have much fun as well, if my eyes do not deceive me?”

Ben’s belly was on fire and licking the tankard rim, he smirked as he saw Julien’s eyes trace the path with interest, even Woodes, dashing as he was with that scar was paying close attention.

“The man who escaped Edward is surely not deceived,” reaching out Ben ran his hand over the edge of Julien’s shirt, refusing to touch that muscly expanse… _just yet_ , “I wonder how Templar fire compares to pirate passion? It would be…ah, interesting to compare.”

Julien grinned, but was interrupted by Woodes who stood and strolled around to them. He rested one hand on Ben’s shoulder, “I assure you that Templar conviction – ardour – can outstrip pirate passion. Ours lasts, a pirate’s desire wanes as quickly as it is roused, or as long the rum endures.”

Ben roared with laughter, “Then we have nothing to fear. To adventure and-”

“Bed,” finished Julien, who closed the gap and kissed him.

Yes, thought Ben as he dragged Woodes down to join in, I can get used to this life.


	4. Unlocked by Four keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward Kenway sees Stede Bonnet in a new light and acts accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward Kenway/Stede Bonnet – very AU! Probably the only person who ships it, but I had to give them some notice.
> 
> There is a rather graphic PWP half-way through so if that's not to your taste, feel free to either skip this day or stop when it gets to the action.
> 
> As always, apologies for not being beta-read!

* * *

_On the Fourth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Four Calling Birds_

 

An eagle circled above, its cry piercing yet lifting to Edward as he balanced on the ledge. Tracking the wings he stood and leapt, being one with the bird for that instant, free and unfettered by responsibilities.

“Edward!” Edward glanced up from brushing off stray straw and saw Stede rushing over, amazement on his features. “My goodness, did you really jump from so high? Simply marvellous!”

Edward smiled, unable to contain any annoyance at Stede’s pure cheerfulness. So, he allowed Stede to settle in beside him and chat away as he kept an eye open for the Templars he was currently misleading.

He recalled as they walked that when he had first met Mr Stede Bonnet he had considered him no more than a convenience and a fortunate one at that. However, as their acquaintance continued Edward developed a fondness for the kind-hearted gentleman.

Stede Bonnet really did live up to a gentleman ideal, kind, generous, trusting and brave. While Edward had no particular use for immediate trust, he didn’t forget Stede’s willingness to extend the favour, nor did Edward forget Stede’s natural offer of friendship.

Edward truly appreciated Stede as amusing as he was and he was conscious of how Stede had been his first friend in these waters.

Glancing at Stede now Edward was grateful again for the easy openness of Stede, compared to the Templars who were strangely intense and spoke of sorcery it was pleasant company.

“And now I’m stuck attempting to shift my remaining sugar. I’m sure I’ll find someone though.” Stede’s happy smile made Edward chuckle.

“I’m sure you will Stede. I’m afraid I must go now, see you later.”

“Oh,” disappointment briefly flickered then Stede nodded and shook his hand, “Very well. Be careful of your step Edward!”

“I will.”

Their second encounter was tense as Edward attempted to prevent Bonnet from giving him away. He heard the eagle’s cry as he abandoned Stede on the docks and yearned for a moment’s freedom. He checked over his shoulder at Stede’s plump form lifting a rate and reassured himself he would catch up with his friend when he had the slip.

Unfortunately, his quick exit from Havana had prevented him from getting to know Stede better. He was surprised at how he missed Stede when he did think about it.

It came at strange intervals, once at the top of a broken ship mast as he prepared to jump, another eagle showing him the route. It was weird and honestly lonely inducing.

So when he saw Stede on Blackbeard’s ship of all places he had been stunned and happy for his…well, friend. It was Stede’s parting words to him that had shook Edward.

No one had ever been so pleased and grateful for his presence, (apart from Caroline and that unfortunately was over), and friendship. The strong emotion that rose inside him was…warmth, a softness towards Stede Bonnet and a sadness at their parting.

The emotion made Edward uncomfortable and he buried it, assuming as ever his carefree attitude to life, consumed with treasure hunting.

Yet, when they met again, moored in Edward’s Great Inagua hideout, Edward suffered the same peculiar emotion again.

“Edward! Oh, it is good to see you again!”

Edward laughed as Stede ran up to him waving and accepted the enthusiastic embrace.

“Aye, it’s great to see you too Stede.” Exerting his strength Edward couldn’t help but leak in his hug how much he had missed Stede.

Breathless, Stede wheezed, “I must say Edward, I believe you’ve grown stronger since we last met.”

“I’ve been sailing the seas and have had many adventures since we last talked.”

Edward broke the embrace and draping an arm over Stede’s shoulders began guiding him. “This calls for a catch-up.”

“I saw a tavern.”

“No,” laughed Edward, “in my house. We have privacy there.”

Stede smiled, his blue eyes shining. “I would love to see your home.”

An eagle cried out above and Edward grinned inwardly, their bird some sap might declare.

Chuckling and chatting away Edward steered Stede up to the grand manor. Stede’s gasp caused pride to swell within Edward and he arrogantly asked, “What do you think?”

“It’s marvellous Edward! How on ever did you manage to lay your hands on such a beauty?”

As they walked into the house, Edward winked at Stede and pushed him towards the alcove where the armour hung, one key already waiting. “I claimed it from a Templar.”

“Templar?”

“Nevermind But…here hangs an outfit which comes from the Templars. A beauty eh?” Edward caressed the locks and grinning devilishly pulled out four keys. “Now you’ll see me take the armour for my own. I got these keys through a lot of hard work.”

Stede smiled, “Some of the adventures you mentioned?”

“Yes, in part.”

Edward inserted the keys and turned the lock. Within moments he was removing the armour, carrying it to the nearby desk.

“Here, lend a hand would you Stede?”

“Of course.”

Stede hurried over and hovered, alive with excitement. His glee in Edward’s fortune was touching and sparked something within Edward: before had been an echo of what he experienced now.

His emotions were stronger, darker and as Stede assisted in removing Edward’s coat and shirt to replace it with the Templar armour, a lighter and strange fabric that Edward knew would protect him more, he burned from where Stede’s fingers brushed his naked skin.

As Stede turned to pick up the arm braces a wild abandon gripped Edward and he knocked the arm braces from Stede’s hands.

“What? Edward?”

Stede’s confusion was endearing, but Edward had no time for talking and he hauled Stede flush against him, relishing the gasp. Stede’s open mouth looked kissable and Edward did that just that, mouth firm and unrelenting.

Stede whimpered and initially struggled, but Edward persevered, sucking at Stede’s bottom lip, sneaking his tongue in when Stede opened. Now this was treasure and deserved Edward’s full attention.

Tightening his grip, Edward could feel the press of Stede, softer than his own honed muscle, yet the softness, gentleness was pleasing and Edward pushed into that yielding flesh.

His hands rubbed up and down as he plundered like a true pirate Stede’s mouth. Only as his breath shortened did Edward release and tilt his head back slightly. Stede’s eyes…ah…so dazed yet so beautiful and filled with lust.

To make sure, Edward allowed one hand to explore, seeking through the layers of clothes Stede’s manhood. It was deliciously hard and Edward smirked.

_Good._

“You seem at rights with this Stede.”

Stede just breathed heavily, just stuttering, “I…I…think so.”

Edward didn’t need to hear more and not wishing Stede to alter his mind or for his own sense to return, Edward half-carried Stede to his bedroom.

Pushing the man onto the bed, Edward undressed and hastily yanked off Stede’s clothing. Stede turned a delicious red and drew up his legs.

“Now, none of that my friend. I want you and am going to have you, so no hiding.”

Crawling on top of Stede, Edward held Stede’s chin in his fingers, forcing his friend to stare him straight in the eyes.

Kissing Stede on the lips, gentle then with more pressure, Edward sprinkled kisses on Stede’s cheeks, forehead, temples, nose and mouth again.

“See? I want you and like what I see.” Edward reached down and pulled apart Stede’s legs and slinking in Edward dragged his hard, leaking erection across Stede’s own.

Stede’s eyes fluttered. _“Edward.”_

Edward laughed again and trailed his hand now through Stede’s yellow hair, liking the feel of it.

“I’m your first man?”

“Y..y..yes.”

“Then I’ll be gentle,” Edward licked under Stede’s chin, “at first.”

Biting down gently on Stede’s throat, Edward pulled away, admiring how handsome Stede appeared, flush, dick red and hard, eyes bright with hope, desire and affection.

The wildness inside Edward grew, so that Edward thought he would burst if he did nothing, didn’t claim Stede.

So, eager and wanting Edward found oil and with a patience he hardly felt, prepared Stede. He held on as long as he could, before eventually he surrendered and slicked his own cock and hoisting Stede’s legs over his shoulders pressed in.

“Shit.”

The tightness and resistance were overwhelming and perfect. Stede gripped him in a vice that fitted better than any glove. Panting, Edward lent down and harshly kissed Stede who was whimpering in pain and pleasure.

“Fucking perfect, Stede. You were made for me.”

Easing in, Edward snarled as the heat increased until he was sure he was feverish, but oh when he finally was all the way in Edward thought he would go mad from the pleasure.

It was almost too much waiting for Stede to relax, but he did, not wishing to hurt him. When his lover did finally slump, Edward began to thrust in and out, enjoying Stede’s plumpness as his hard stomach rubbed along the rotund belly.

Stede moaned and Edward smiled, mouth hungry with desire. If Stede liked that… Edward endeavoured that each thrust drew their stomachs together and suddenly…

“Oh, right there Edward!”

He had found his target.

With renewed vigour Edward increased his pace and Stede began to thrash underneath him, legs locking over his back. Pressure built and Edward knew he was close. Twisting slightly Edward slammed into Stede, causing the man to cry out in surprise.

Panting, Edward reached down and engulfed Stede’s cock in his hand. Squeezing, Edward growled, “Come now Stede.”

Tugging, Edward reinforced his command with another brutal thrust and Stede sobbed as he spilled. At the sight and clenching muscles around his dick Edward was shattered by his own release. He stilled and spilled his seed into Stede.

As the aftershocks coursed through him, Edward eased Stede’s legs down and arranged them so that Stede’s back was tucked into Edward’s chest.

Stroking Stede’s cheek, Edward whispered tiredly, “Rest Stede. We have more coming.”

Stede just sighed kissing his fingers, his eyes shuttered and he sank into sleep.

Edward kept one arm over Stede, stated for now, his emotions still as powerful as the tide, but for the moment like a storm-free sea, calm.


	5. Brethren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Pitcairn meets with his Templar brethren after spending a long time apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Pitcairn, William Johnson, Thomas Hickey, Haytham Kenway and Charles Lee, gen slight angst 
> 
> – John Pitcairn POV as there isn’t enough fic of him out there.

* * *

_On the Fifth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Five_ _Golden Rings_

  


The early morning sky was full of grey clouds and only the dimmest rays of sun eked out through the dense layer. Worse was the chill that had settled in and it was with some haste that John Pitcairn reigned in his horse by the inn and dismounted. He was tired and sore so the quick action was painful on his abused muscles, but he was eager to see his friends.

Mud squelched under his worn boots as he walked up to the steps. It had rained torrentially the night previous and the water still clogged the earth. John had been caught in it as he made for this location. Now the chill was combining with his wet clothes to make him feel perfectly miserable.

He shoved open the door, glad to finally be somewhere he could wash and be warm and dry.

The inn was quiet this early, but some were up already and three men in particular were conversing in low tones, their voices clear. These were men who were not befuddled by sleep, but as ever alert and ready.

_His comrades._

John wiped his boots and walked over, not calling out yet. Instead he drank in the sight of William Johnson, Thomas Hickey and Charles Lee. It had been so long since he last saw them, duty carrying them far afield that he wished to simply observe and appreciate.

William as ever was meticulous in dress and as usual was keeping Thomas in line, via a strategically placed arm over the back of Thomas’ chair; a necessity to prevent Thomas from engaging the inn-keeper’s female staff in ah…indecent behaviour.

Charles…well Charles seemed to be favouring the scruffy look. Beard and hair were unkempt and his clothes while intricate and well-chosen to his frame were in disarray.

John wondered what strain rested on Charles’ shoulders now. As second in command to the Grandmaster, Charles keenly felt his duty and pursued Haytham’s orders with a precision and a zeal that bordered on madness. Then again, John and the others considered Charles to be a trifle crazy anyway.

John wished he knew Charles better to offer help. Yet that was the issue, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t truly close to any of his Templar brethren. William had Thomas, who consumed William’s time with attempting to reign in and monitor Thomas, while soothing ruffled feathers and occasionally indulging Thomas in his beer and women.

Thomas was too causal in his pursuits for John, though he appreciated the skills Thomas brought to the table: his ability to forge alliances and contacts and root out all manner of goods.

And Charles…John shook his head. Getting to know Charles better was difficult. His devotion and friendship to Haytham were intense emotions that Charles was unable to conceal and could be overwhelming to one not so enamoured of the Grandmaster.

Yet if Charles was obsessed with Haytham, then the Grandmaster was equally protective of Charles, more than once sending Charles away if the situation looked fraught. When Haytham and Charles were in the same room, the Grandmaster rarely allowed any of their group to sit or converse with Charles exclusively.

Oh, he let Charles ‘play’ with them, for example when Charles and Thomas metered out punishments in the jails they had power over, but Haytham seemed to want to limit Charles’ time to himself.

John didn’t consider exploring Haytham’s interests as the man while friendly enough was also very private. Charles was probably the only one who truly knew what Haytham was aiming for.

So it was with a sense of loneliness weaving his happiness at seeing his comrades in this rare moment of togetherness that John Pitcairn called out greetings.

To his surprise, Charles waved him to the seat to the empty seat at his right.

“Thanks Charles, where’s Haytham?”

Charles raised an arm instead of answering called out, “Mrs Standfast! Tea and breakfast for Mr Pitcairn.” Seeing that his order was acknowledged, Charles turned to look at him.

John blinked under the strangely blue eyes that fixed on him.

“Master Kenway hasn’t arrived yet. Are you well?”

“Yes, just weary after my journey. The damn downpour caught me.”

“Bad luck John. If you would like to wash up before you have a bite, my room is the first on the right.”

John smiled at William’s offer. “Thank you William.”

Thomas snorted, “Let the man eat, bet he’s starving.” He rocked back and forth on his chair.

William just sighed. “It’s good to see you again John. It has been a long time.”

“A year to be exact and it is good to be together again.”

Charles actually joined in agreement. “The true five members of our Order, when Master Kenway arrives naturally. It is as it ought to be.”

They fell silent as a woman brought a pot and a mug. John accepted the tea and poured hurriedly, not waiting for it to sit and seep too eager for the hot liquid.

Thomas grinned, “Well, it’s a break. Any idea why we’re here?”

“To revitalise our spirits Thomas, so we have the will to continue with our fight.”

They all glanced up to find Haytham Kenway standing next to the table. A small smile was playing on his face, eyes bright as ever and perhaps amused. John wasn’t quite sure.

“Master Kenway!” Charles’ enthusiasm was infectious and humorous.

“Charles. I’m glad to see you are well.”

John noted the way Haytham’s eyes fell on where he was sitting, but before he could move, Haytham actually grabbed a spare seat and sat opposite Charles.

“John, how have you been? It has been a year since we last spoke face to face.”

Still a little dizzy with surprise, John forced himself to relax and answer. The conversation continued in the same vein and John realised that William and Thomas were asking lots of questions of his activities and listening with genuine interest.

Warmth tightened in his chest. It appeared that he wasn’t such an outsider in this little group of five. There may be ‘natural pairs’, but he was still valued. The thought was comforting and also liberating.

 Later, when he had eaten and stood to go and order himself in William’s quarters, John didn’t feel as if he was missing out on the lively exchanges between William and Thomas; nor did Haytham’s cat-quick move to sit beside Charles and their gentle murmurs bother him. 

They were his Templar brethren and there was a place for each one of them. His presence here testified to that sentiment.

Happy and no longer quite so exhausted John climbed up the stairs, wishing to return as speedily as he may.

 


	6. Six feathers & A Mother's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Tale: Ezio, Claudia & Federico sit by their brother's bedside, doing their best to ensure he awakens.
> 
> Second Tale: Kaniehtí:io wathces over her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sixth day is split into two tales, with the second one dedicated to salanaland (I hope it isn't too short!).
> 
> In the First Tale - Ezio, Claudia, Petruccio and Federico Auditore, gen, family bonding. This is a slight AU in the sense that I put more time between Petruccio’s requesting Ezio fetch a feather for him and when Ezio’s brothers & father are arrested. I just wanted some family bonding. 
> 
> In the Second Tale - Ziio And Connor.

* * *

 

_On the Sixth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Six Geese a Laying_

**First Tale **

** Six feathers **

Ezio placed the feather he had recently retrieved from a nearby rooftop on top of his little brother’s blanket. He watched as Federico did the same with his own.

Their sister Claudia was crying, but she gently pulled from her purse a silk handkerchief. Unfolding the white silk Ezio saw four ivory feathers, pristine, none of them damaged or disarrayed.

“Where did you find so many Claudia?”

Claudia looked at him, the fire in her beautiful brown eyes banked, “There were a group of birds bathing in the fountain and I noticed some feathers had fallen while they groomed, so I simply collected them.”

She added her prize to the bed and watched as Petruccio’s chest rose and fell under the blanket. His face was flushed, brow furrowed as if in pain.

“Will this work?”

Ezio took his sister’s hand in his larger one, holding tight, “Of course, Claudia. How can our brother resist so many fine feathers?”

Federico laughed, though it sounded slightly forced, not his usual carefree one. Ezio however, was determined not to show despair and leaning over his little brother, he called in a strong voice, “Petruccio! Petruccio, stop sleeping. Don’t you want to see your presents?”

“Ezio!” hissed Claudia, “the doctor said not to make too much noise.”

“The doctor! Pah. What does he know?” Ezio again called for his brother to awaken and with his spare right hand put it on his brother’s fevered cheek.

This time Petruccio stirred and his breathing changed, becoming less laboured, his brow less furrowed, as if he was hearing Ezio. Hope sparked in Ezio’s chest and with renewed vigour he stroked his brother’s cheek, “Petruccio, if you don’t wake up, Federico will steal your present! I’m not sure if I can stop him.”

“No you won’t Ezio,” said Federico finally joining in, “so watch out little brother! Here I come!”

Claudia sobbed, a small smile on her face, “Don’t worry Petruccio, together we can stop Federico, you simply must wake up first.”

Ezio grinned; he knew he could count on his siblings. Together they cajoled their sick brother to re-join them and as the clock ticked away the afternoon they saw an improvement, the red fading in Petruccio’s cheeks, the sweat no longer beading his fevered brow and at last his eyelids fluttered…Then opened.

Brown eyes slightly dulled by illness gazed up at them and he whispered, “Why are you making so much noise?”

 Claudia just cried in earnest and wrapped their bewildered Petruccio in her slender arms, while Federico just wiped his eyes and started laughing, this time with real relief and joy. Ezio wanted to collapse with exhaustion and happiness, but first he brushed the feathers closer to his brother and whispered, “So that you can continue collecting your feathers for your mysterious scheme, Petruccio.”

“Oh! They’re wonderful! Thank you so much!”

Petruccio smiled tiredly and hugged his sister who kissed him all over his face. Ezio watched the sight, the tension in his chest flown like a bird from its nest. His brother lived another day and Claudia, Federico, Petruccio and he were together again.

 

* * *

 

 

** Second Tale **

** A Mother’s Love **

Kaniehtí:io brushed her son’s black hair away from his sleeping face. His features were relaxed in repose, a peacefulness on the youthful face that made her ache. It was an ache born from a love so fierce Kaniehtí:io hadn’t realised could exist, until she had held her son on the day he was born.

She remembered that hour, when after hours of pain she heard his cry and then little Ratonhnhaké:ton was in her arms and she loved him in that instant.

He was a fine boy, so loving yet so determined and brave. He was always seeking answers and adventure, wishing to explore further afield. Sometimes she feared for him, because if he was so desirous to see the world now, just at the cusp of four years old then how would he be as a man?

In this he was too much like his father…No she would not think or speak of him. Those fears were best left buried, only the fear of the continuing encroachment by the colonists.

The ache was a pain in her heart, but as Kaniehtí:io curled up around her boy, arms cradling him to her, she knew she would protect her son with every breath in her body.

Ratonhnhaké:ton whimpered in his sleep as she pulled him close and his eyelids fluttered. Brown wells, glassy with dreams, peered up at her.

“Mother?” his voice was curious.

“Yes darling?”

“What’s the matter?”

Ah, her boy was always so perceptive. Smiling Kaniehtí:io kissed her son on the forehead, “I’m fine my son, sleep. I’m here to look after you.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton squirmed a bit and as usual reached out to play with the goose feathers in her hair. He was fascinated by birds and whenever an eagle circled above would glance up eager for a sight of the majestic creature. “He’s free to go wherever and whenever he wants!” had been his reply when she had asked the reason for his obsession.

Now Kaniehtí:io laughed softly, mindful of others in the village and murmured, “Do you know that geese defend themselves fiercely when attacked?”

“Yes, Mother. They chased off the village hunters when we went and bathed in the lake. Chased them all the way up the path!” Her son smiled sleepily at the memory.

Kaniehtí:io touched her nose to Ratonhnhaké:ton’s, making him giggle. “Yes, they were protecting their young. And I’ll do the same, in life and…beyond.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned then said in a voice dull with sleep, eyes drooping, “You’ll be around forever Mother.”

“I shall do my best, darling. Now sleep.” Nodding her son huddled into her warmth and Kaniehtí:io held him, love swelling her heart. Her precious boy, she would love him and protect him as much as possible, whatever happened or wherever her son’s path led.

 

 


	7. Transformation - Acts One & Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Kidd is very persistent in wanting to change Edward. Edward wonders why in the first act and in the second sees the result of his pirating and it shocks him to the core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward/James Kidd
> 
> This has major spoilers for the fourth game so please don’t read unless you’ve either finished the game or just don’t mind revelations! Slash & het (a spoiler in of itself!) ahead – AU. 
> 
> Some lines from Ubisoft.
> 
> For some Swans are said to represent elegance and mystery, movement, love and their link with water suggests intuition. Within the song, there is a link with air, [even though they are swimming], an element that includes the sky and heavens. The number seven also represents elegance and mystery.

* * *

_On the Seventh Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Seven_ _Swans a Swimming_

**Transformation – Act One**

James Kidd was a mystery to Edward. From the first time he had met the boy, he had never understood what motivated Captain Kidd.

Their conversation on the shores of Great Inagua had been puzzling, for some reason Kidd was under the illusion that the pirate life was not for him, that he had more to offer. Frankly, Edward had no desire to seek anything of greater meaning unless it provided loot of considerable valuable, like this Observatory the Templars were so eager to find.

At least that was what he thought, but James was a persistent fellow and near hounded him, constantly singing the same song that he was a better man, a good man, an honourable man.

“For fuck’s sake, James! Why don’t you find such a man if you find those qualities so attractive? Why do you keep pestering me?” Edward brandished his beer, spilling most with great regret.

Kidd just raised an eyebrow, his red bandanna a bright contrast to black hair. He didn’t seem bothered by Edward’s outburst, simply amused.

“Why get so angry Edward? Maybe feeling guilty ‘cause you know you possess such fine qualities?”

Edward wanted to scream, infuriating boy! “What am I? One of your bloody Templars you Assassins hunt?”

James actually laughed, “No. Just a man who ought to know better.”

Edward drained the last of his beer lest he waste it, then slammed it, watching glass shatter. “Damn.”

James put his feet on the table, “Tell you what Edward, come with me for a while and if I can’t change your mind then I’ll stop chasing ya’ like an Assassin after a Templar as you call it.”

Edward eyed James. The innocent brown eyes did not deceive him for a moment. “Aye, and I’ll be an Assassin before sun-down if you have your way.”

James smirked, “Or maybe you can _have_ an Assassin if you’re fleet of foot enough.”

Edward gaped then thought, why not? “Deal.”

In an eye-blink James was off, racing across the green and then he suddenly leapt onto the rooftops of Havana.

Swearing Edward took off in pursuit. He climbed buildings, descended ladders, dodged people and too many alarmed guards, scaled walls and… “Shit.”

Edward swerved as James turned left and followed him onto a ledge, reaching out Edward’s fingers brushed James’ shirt just as he leapt. He performed a leap of faith, his only chance to keep up and found himself in a middle of a melee.

Gasping and swearing again, Edward fought with his hidden blade, maintaining an eye on James who appeared to be using a new method or two. Being the advantageous bastard he was Edward copied with mixed results. As he attempted to use his rope dart while simultaneously dealing with another guard he was swept off his feet.

However, James got there first and staggering up Edward heard: “Keep up Edward!”

Then the annoying assassin was gone and Edward hissed as he chased, leaving the few guards to bugger off or pursue as they saw fit: they wouldn’t keep up.

It was only as they reached James’ ship and James used the railings to balance that Edward realised something.

_He’s teaching me Assassin tricks and honing what I know. The bastard._

Edward was impressed and very annoyed. Putting on a burst of speed Edward used a crate to provide boost and landed on the ship decking a breath ere James landed.

Turning Edward seized him and dragging him close whispered, “I’ll never be an assassin.”

James grinned, black hair tousled, bandanna askew and a delicious flush to his tanned skin, “So you say Edward.”

Edward growled and mindful of the confused sailors hustled James to his cabin. Pushing James against the wall Edward snarled, “I won the first round,” and closed the gap to kiss James.

As they fumbled with their clothes Edward thought he heard James murmur, “But not the war.” Not that he cared; he had got what he wanted.

 

A year later Edward was staring out across the sea and wondered how he ever thought he had a chance against James Kidd, the most annoying Assassin in the world.

“We’re here Edward.” Edward glanced at James who was serious, no smile only determination craved in his face, an echo for the seriousness in Edward’s own.

“Then let’s finish this.” Leaving the railing, for James had been captioning, Edward adjusted his hidden blade and looked up at the Black Flag…emblazoned with the symbol of the Assassins.

Who would have thought he would be transformed from a scoundrel into an Assassin? He hadn’t, but one man had. Edward smiled slightly at James who was preparing for battle as well.

James was still a mystery to Edward, a bird who one minute was a pirate, moulting into an Assassin and another as a redeemer. For whatever reason, James had seen promise and hope within Edward and instead of giving up had sailed across the seas to pursue his dream of making Edward the man he ought to be.

Edward may not know the reason but he was profoundly glad that James had chased and won. Clapping James on the shoulder Edward said, “Come on James, we have Torres to hunt.”

Nodding James with his mystery and deadly elegance sprang from the ship and Edward followed, thanking the heavens for one James Kidd.  

* * *

**Transformation – Act Two – New Life**

How many warnings must a man receive before it’s too late? And why did others have to bear the price and not the man? Those questions haunted Edward in the lifetime it took to open Mary Read’s prison door.

He gazed in horror at Mary who barely could react to him, she was in her undergarments which were soiled with filth and blood…Sickened and scared Edward helped her stand.

Yelling for Ah Tabi to continue on Edward began to guide Mary out. Yet it was painfully clear she couldn’t walk, the heave of her chest was evident, not mention how white Mary was under normally golden skin.

Edward struggled to focus, fear a hungry sea monster in his belly. He had to get Mary to safety. He had to. The Assassins would be able to treat her and then he would find her child, everything was going to be fine.

Even as she protested Edward simply picked her up and fury coursed through his veins, utter recrimination that he hadn’t been there for Mary, too busy drinking ale and murdering any he crossed.

Then Mary pled again and Edward stopped. Allowing her to sink to ground Edward crouched. Her lovely eyes met his and where fire had rested before, while her utter faith that he would change had been beacons of light, now were extinguished.

That sea monster was now roaring, fear consuming him and Edward was scourged by the amount of fear and horror running through him.

_Mary was dying because of him, because he couldn’t fucking listen to her and become the man she said he could be._

“Don’t die on my account. Go.”

Still she looked out for him and Edward struggled to harpoon that beast of doubt in him.

“You’re such a pain in the arse. Damn it, you should have been the One to outlast me.”

Edward knew this, tasted this knowledge and with it the realisation of what all had been saying to him, Templar and Assassin. He had chased an empty course full of lust for gold and murder in his heart and all who paid for his vices…were those who cared for him, who he had come to love.

It was a bitter blow and Edward would have cried, would have howled for the monster in his belly now was in his very veins and heart, his soul alive with pain, remorse and guilt.

“I’ve done my part. Will you?”

Edward cried then, Mary’s expression was a plea, hope now alive. She would redeem him even now. Who was this mysterious woman, who played a man and was a woman, who acted the pirate but was an Assassin; who fought yet was a mother.

He wasn’t worth her love and faith, but he could try to be.

“If you came with me, I could.”

She didn’t respond and Edward saw life beginning to drain away. _No, please no._

“I’ll be with you, Kenway, I will.”

Her eyes closed and head drooped. Edward trembled and brushed her hair. In desperation he lifted Mary, so still and quiet in his arms and bore her away. Those who attacked him did not stand a chance.

\- - -

Edward never forgot the prison. It had been a revelation to him. His life seven months ago now seemed like a dream where he had been a man  who cared only for himself, though he told himself otherwise.

The prison had been an awakening and Mary’s…Edward gazed into the sky, face wet with tears. A flock of birds passed over the sun and he smiled.

As the birds changed course in the heavens he had come back on course and now his life was something to be worth living, to be proud of.

“What’cha thinking about Edward?”

That voice brought happiness to Edward, especially when he had almost lost it. He met Mary’s eyes and couldn’t help laughing, “Thinking how before I thought I was free like the birds, but really was a prisoner of greed and ambition for a deep pocket. I was shackled by not caring what my actions held for others.”

He slipped an arm around Mary, still too thin, but growing healthier by the day. He gazed into her eyes and there was that fire, “Now I am truly free, all thanks to you my lovely Mary. The prison was a shock and almost cost me dearly.”

Mary touched his cheek, fingers calloused, “Aye and I am glad for it.” The fire in her eyes seemed hotter as if his admission was what she hoped for.

“Never have I been so frightened in my life.”

Mary grinned, “Good, now stop your weeping and let’s greet our children at the dock.”

Edward laughed and kissing Mary knew how fortunate he was; he had Mary his wife, they had his daughter and hers retrieved and if Mary was right, another on the way.

He had been lucky and damn it if Edward wouldn’t be thankful for the rest of his days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Days 10, 11 & 12 sketched out, or at least, what I intend to do, HOWEVER: Day 11 is going to be quite graphic, but as I know this won't be to everybody's taste (and can't be cross-posted to FF.Net), I will do a gen version for that day. I am leaning towards my favourite five Templars from ACIII, so if you any have requests for a scenario etc please feel free to comment. Modern or not is okay too!
> 
> That leaves Day 9! Any requests are welcome and I'll try my best. 
> 
> [P.S. Day 8 I probably will post along with Day 9 so while I can't promise anything, if you wish you can request.]
> 
> One caveat for any requests - no incest, Haytham/Ziio and nothing anti-Charles.


	8. A Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Charles and the others arrived after George Washington set fire to the village..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eight maids can be symbolic of eight Magpies. They are considered birds of power and are portents used in fortune-telling. In the old rhyme, eight magpies are for a wish (in some versions), a new beginning in other words. So, here in this fic we have a new spin on the story of AC3; a what if? 
> 
> Gen, father-son bonding, friendship

* * *

_On the Eighth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Eight_ _Maids a Milking_

 

 

_**A Chance** _

Haytham never thought he would be a father, to be truthful, he had never desired the role. The Order and its objectives had been sufficient for him. Yet now, through chance he had not only fathered a child, but through a twist of fate was left with sole authority over the boy.

Yes, a boy, a son, he had created with Ziio in the short time he had known her. It had been Charles and Thomas who discovered the existence of his son, when they had headed to Ziio’s village for negotiation. However they arrived only in time to witness its burning.

As instructed they did attempt to save some of the natives to bolster good-will. In the process they stumbled across Ziio dying and her – his – son by her side. Dragging the boy away they only realised through village elders who he was.

They had returned with the boy uncertain how else to proceed and now Haytham had a son and his inner circle were in chaos.

Curious how fate fell, but the Father of Understanding surely had a plan in place.

Picking up a towel Haytham headed for the bathroom where Ratonhnhaké:ton, (and that was a name he was certainly going to have to change as he couldn’t pronounce it), awaited, Haytham decided this could be promising.

A son might be useful to furthering the Templar cause and blood ties occasionally paid dividends, though it he would be hard pressed to find someone more loyal and devoted than Charles, speaking of whom…

“Charles?”

No answer. Damn. Haytham sighed and entered the bathroom to see Ratonhnhaké:ton peering into the bath suspiciously. He turned when Haytham entered and the Grandmaster could see how red his son’s eyes were from crying. Not surprising really, he had just lost his mother and she had been a remarkable woman.

“Father?” the tone was sullen and unsure.

“Yes?” Haytham tried to sound comforting, but it was difficult, he did not deal with children and didn’t know the boy, how he could offer true solace?

“Why am I here?”

Haytham raised an eyebrow and placed the towel on a chair and walking to Ratonhnhaké:ton, he crouched so they were eye level. “Where else should you be?”

“Revenging my mother.”

Haytham smiled, amused, “All in good time. First you must rest and train. You would hardly be a match for them at four years old.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned and just managed to supress his sniff. _Good,_ thought Haytham, _you are strong. I can work with that._

“You’ll train me?”

“Of course, I am your father. However, you will have to be tough and grow into the skills I shall teach you. I warn you that I shall expect a lot from you as my son and that laziness will not be rewarded. If you are willing and able to learn under these restrictions then you can grow in wisdom and one day perhaps have your revenge.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton considered this and Haytham allowed him as he stood and ensured the water the maids had poured was still hot. He hadn’t wished them to linger and clean the boy themselves as he was uncertain of how his son would react, he didn’t wish the boy to embarrass him.

The soap was on a shelf. Ratonhnhaké:ton still had his head bent, but it was much for four year old to absorb so Haytham permitted him the opportunity to contemplate.

His son didn’t fail him and Haytham felt the tug on his overcoat. Glancing down he saw Ratonhnhaké:ton peering up, dark brown eyes serious, cheeks stained from grief. “I will be the best Father.”

Haytham smiled, pleased. “Then we shall begin your instruction once you are settled. Now, one more thing, you met some of my brethren earlier-”

“Lee and Hickey?”

“Yes, when I am not present you will listen to Mr Lee and if he is not around then either Mr Pitcairn or Mr Johnson.”

“Mr Hickey?”

Haytham raised an eyebrow, “I think not. Now, let us undress.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton seemed alarmed, “Why?”

“Undress and you shall discover why.” Haytham could feel his patience waning and had to restrain himself not to lose his temper. He was used to his commands being obeyed instantly and in Charles’ case with complete devotion; a child asking so many questions and dithering was most unusual.

“Master Kenway!”

Ah, there was Charles, thank goodness, “In the bathroom Charles!”

He heard the thud of Charles feet and then a flustered Lee appeared in the entrance. In his arms were a pile of packages.

“Please come in Charles.” Haytham looked at Connor who was struggling so he crouched again to assist.

“I found some clothing Sir, but cannot guarantee they will fit.”

“We must endure for the moment and concern ourselves with proper measurements later.” Haytham removed Ratonhnhaké:ton’s shirt and then looked up at Charles who was standing awkwardly beside them.

“Where are Pitcairn and Johnson?”

“Johnson is fetching all the necessary papers and Pitcairn is holding down the office. Hickey…” Charles trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Well, Hickey is swaggering about in the kitchen insisting he knows what a young boy likes to eat.”

Haytham was dry in his response, “Indeed. We will have to check that later, but for the moment, take off your coat Charles and lend me a hand.”

“Yes sir.”

Haytham finished undressing Ratonhnhaké:ton who was now staring at Charles with a frown. Haytham kept an eye on this as he shrugged off his overcoat and with reluctance his necktie and shirt.

“Charles,” Haytham nodded, he could see Charles’ flush and similar reluctance to his own, but as always Charles obeyed. He quickly removed his necktie, waistcoat and shirt.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s voice blurted out, “Why do you have hair on your chest Mr Lee?”

“Son!” snapped Haytham.

Charles’ mouth gaped open and he flushed even more. Haytham was slightly diverted, but mostly horrified at his son’s impetuousness.

Ratonhnhaké:ton however just switched to him and whispered, “And you Father?”

Before Haytham could muster a reply, Charles stuttered, “Because we’re men.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned and opened his mouth, Haytham tensed, “Why?”

“Into the bath!”

It was not seemly to lose his control even in this minor way, but Haytham had no desire to pursue this line of questioning and by the look of Charles, neither did he.

Of course his son couldn’t clamber in so Haytham carefully picked up the boy and lowered him into the hot water. Ratonhnhaké:ton squealed then bit his lip as if remonstrating himself for a display of weakness.

“It shan’t be too bad after a minute,” soothed Charles who sounded awkward.

“Charles is correct, now sit still.”

Reaching for the soap Haytham saw Charles kneel by the bath and pick up the washing rag. Kneeling as well, Haytham met Charles’ questioning gaze. How hard could it be to wash a four year old?

“If you focus on the hair Charles, I’ll give Ra…Ra…my son a rub down.”

“Yes sir.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton gazed curiously at them, brown eyes still haunted by sadness but also clearly wondering what they were doing.

“Move nearer,” murmured Charles.

Ratonhnhaké:ton scowled, “My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

Charles licked his lips and struggled to repeat. Haytham shook his head. It really wouldn’t do, he had to find another name for his son. Ratonhnhaké:ton pouted and admittedly looked cute as he whined, “ _Ratonhnhaké:ton_.”

To give his second-in-command credit, he did attempt the name again before surrendering to the inevitable. “Do you have any other names?”

“No.”

“We will have to give an English name son, as many white people will not be able to pronounce your Native name.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton howled, “My Mother gave me that name.”

“Indeed, and it shall never be forgotten, but until Mr Johnson can teach us to pronounce it properly, surely another name will not hurt?” injected Charles. “And how many boys can say they have a special name from both their father and mother?”

Ratonhnhaké:ton considered, then lips tightly pressed together nodded.

Haytham reminded himself to tell Charles he was impressed, his friend’s silver tongue had saved the day.

“What name?”

Haytham saw panic briefly in Charles’ face ere he looked at Haytham. Haytham considered and choose the first name to fly out at him, “Connor.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton repeated slowly, “Con..Connor.”

“Yes, Connor Kenway.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton gazed at Haytham as if debating whether this was sufficient then edged to the bath side closest to them and curled his small hand on the lip. Taking this chance Charles leaned over and scooped some water over the boy’s head. Ratonhnhaké:ton yelped and stared up at him mouth open.

Haytham quickly joined in and Connor turned into a squirming mass of limbs that no matter what Haytham or Charles tried saying didn’t sit still. By the giggles Ratonhnhaké:ton – Connor – was having too much fun to stop. It was worse when Connor suddenly appeared to be quiet only to have his small hands sliding over Charles’ chest then his own, fingers scrabbling through their chest hair.

Charles released a most undignified yelp and Haytham barely concealed his own exclamation. Connor naturally found this hilarious and actually laughed.

“Stop son.”

Connor just focused his efforts on Charles, touching Charles’ hands as they slid through his longish hair.

After another frustrating five minutes of slippery boy and sloshed water, Charles asked, “Sir, I may have something that could help.”

Haytham blinked water out of his eyes, “Anything Charles. And please, it’s Haytham.”

Nodding, Charles rose and Haytham noticed how wet Charles’ trousers were, indeed his own were clinging uncomfortably to his legs and crotch. At this rate they would both require their own bath.

 Charles walked over to the pile of clothing and from one package he pulled a small wooden carving. Returning Haytham saw it was a beautiful, elegant eagle: every feather was defined, its eyes a piercing gold and body a mixture of dark brown and black.

“It’s splendid Charles, where did you unearth it?”

“On a stall, I thought it might keep…Connor,” Charles reminded himself, “entertained if necessary.”

Haytham smiled, “Well Connor? What do you think?”

His blinked water out of his eyes, rubbing them and focused on the little craving Charles was holding. Excitement crossed his face and he reached out, slopping more water over the bath. Charles looked woebegone and Haytham felt his limited patience fading. However, Charles knelt again, water squelching around him and handed the toy to Connor who happily examined it.

“What do you say?” prompted Haytham, determined to instil good manners into his son. Connor seemed confused then said warily, “Thank you?” It would have to do.

Charles said graciously, “Your welcome.”

Haytham rubbed more soap into the rag and putting a couple of fingers underneath a rather wet chin, ensured Connor was looking him directly in the eye, said sternly, “I expect you to behave, otherwise you can’t play with your gift.”

Connor clutched his eagle and whispered, “Yes Father.”

With caution Charles resumed scrubbing the boy’s longish hair and Haytham cleaning the dirt from his son’s skin, all the while Connor gripped his eagle and stroked the outstretched wings. Miraculously, the toy held Connor’s attention and with only a few more issues, mostly due to unfamiliarity with small boys, the two of them had Connor washed and dried.

Realising the uselessness of dressing Connor when both of them were still sopping wet Haytham hesitated then ordered, “Connor, you may play in the bedroom with your eagle, but do not leave and stay close to the bathroom door. Call if you need anything. Charles and I are going to get dressed. Here,” Haytham selected a shirt and pulled it on Connor hurriedly. It would have to do.

Connor stayed still then bolted; his eagle swooping through the air. Haytham sensed a headache coming. Charles appeared ready to drop, his black hair was soaked and had soap in it, his beard and moustache were wet and also had soap bubbles from where Connor had curiously touched.

Haytham mused he didn’t look much better. His normally neat hair was pulled from its ponytail and was equally wet to Charles’ own and his chest like Charles was one slick mess. He hadn’t thought Connor would be so intrigued by their chest hair.

Sighing Haytham scooped up a spare towel and looking ruefully at Charles nodded to the bath, “I shall call the maids to clean this mess up. I fear we cannot have a proper bath now, not until Johnson or Pitcairn arrive. Then we can leave Connor suitably attended to.”

Haytham feared what trouble Connor could cause if left alone too long if this was the disaster during a bath. Charles nodded in relief, “Shall I fetch another towel?”

“I think there is another on the bed, I did not believe we would require more than one.”

Charles quickly entered the bedroom and Haytham heard his son cry, “Look at my eagle Mr Lee! It’s flying over the mountains.” A thud followed and Charles’ alarmed voice, “Don’t scramble over the chair so, please stay on the bed.”

“Uh huh.”

Charles _ran_ back into the bathroom, distressed, “I think you are correct in not wishing Connor to be left alone Haytham.”

Why, yes that _was_ a headache. “Then let us dress with haste.”

No mission had yet made Haytham or Charles change so quickly, but within barely five minutes they were both dried and attired, sans overcoats and jackets. In Charles case a quick run to his room had offered him dry clothing and Haytham had merely opened his closet.

Connor merely watched their antics in-between ‘flying like an eagle’.

Easing into a chair and nodding for Charles to do the same Haytham promised to find a nurse as quickly as possible. As Connor flung himself at Charles to peer at his frilly necktie, Haytham rubbed his temples and then steeling his resolve seized the reminder of Connor’s clothes.

“Connor, stop bothering Charles and come here so we can finish dressing you.”

Connor twisted and almost fell off Charles’ lap. Swiftly Charles caught Connor and at Haytham’s urgent gesture stood with the boy clasped in his arms.

Ten minutes later and a slew of questions Haytham was ready to hand his son to the cook for some peace, not Thomas because he wasn’t desperate enough plus who knows what Hickey would teach his son.

Meeting Charles’ dazed expression Haytham raised an eyebrow, “Fancy a drink Charles?”

“Oh yes please sir…Haytham.”

Eying his son who was plucking at his clothes with a frown Haytham debated the rationality in permitting his son to walk versus being carried. Instantly the horror of the bathroom rose in his mind and so, bending down he picked up his son and carried him from the room, Charles beside him.

The entire way to the living room was spent with Connor turning his head this way and that and swooping his eagle and not stopping for a moment to take breath. It was therefore with incredible welcome relief that he and Charles reached the drinks cabinet.

Swallowing burning whiskey which usually Haytham avoided, Haytham met Charles’ gaze, his blue eyes showing his weariness. Charles weakly smiled at him and Haytham just raised his glass to show his appreciation. The more genuine smile he received was pleasing.

Sipping the glass Haytham watched as Connor searched the room. He may have never considered having a son, but he did now and with friends like Charles he was certain he could raise the boy right.

“To new beginnings, Charles.”

 “New beginnings.”

 


	9. Sweet Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George Washington discovers that Connor is not as innocent as he seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Washcon, short & um…not so innocent. A bit graphic near the end. Time-line is fudged a bit as I can’t see this happening with Connor knowing that George burned his village down. Not much of a connection to the 9th Day unless you consider that dancing is a code for passion and courtship in the rhyme! 
> 
> There is an alternate ending at the bottom that is the FF.NET version as it is less graphic. : ) 
> 
> I have never written washcon, so hopefully this is okay - written by request, with the only guideline being washcon lol!

* * *

 

_On the Ninth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Nine Ladies Dancing_

Telling Washington that Charles Lee had betrayed them was more difficult than Connor had imagined. It seemed that the Commander-in-Chief actually liked Lee and was unaware of the man’s true sentiments to himself.

The realisation was painful and Connor was shocked at the surge of protectiveness he felt inside, directed at Washington. Connor discreetly tried shrugging it off, the man was more than capable of looking after himself. Yet as he watched Washington bowed his head, as if stunned by the news of Lee’s treachery, and Connor couldn’t help the desire to soothe Washington’s hurt feelings nor the anger at Lee for hurting a man who had held him in esteem.

Looking at Lafayette, Connor could tell the man wasn’t going to comfort Washington, so    Connor resolved to act.

Just then the Commander-in-Chief raised his head and promised he would deal with Lee, though he appeared uncomfortable with the idea. Lafayette was clearly pleased and left on that assurance.

Connor however remained.

Washington eyed him ruefully, “Staying to reprimand me for ever trusting General Lee, Connor?” Washington walked a short few paces, “he was a good man once. He may simply be misguided now, or overtaken by that temperament of his.”

Connor shook his head, yet he admired the Commander-in-Chief’s belief in his fellow men and his determination not to cast any stones until proven without doubt. Such fairness and faith were qualities that Conor had found in short supply in the world of the colonists and he appreciated it in Washington.

Now was not the time to cast aspersions, he had to comfort Washington. Stepping forward Connor said, “Maybe. Can I speak to you privately?”

The Commander-in-Chief smiled wanly: “Of course, please come into my tent.”

Stooping Washington entered and Connor followed through the flap. Eyes adjusting Connor saw the crowded insides filled with papers, maps, tools for measuring, weapons and so on; it gave the appearance of disorder when in reality, everything had its proper place and the Commander knew where to go for any specific supply.

Satisfied they were alone, Connor turned and closed the tent flap and knowing they might only have moments, brushed past Washington, leading him to the half of the tent given to his bed.

“Connor? What is the matter?”

Connor faced Washington and smiled reassuringly. “I don’t think you understand how much you are admired Commander. Lee may have betrayed you, but I assure you, others heed your word.”

Connor stepped right up to Washington, they were of equal height and he could see how confused the Commander was.

“I am such a man.”

“I am not without faults Connor, no man is.”

Connor nodded, “No, but that doesn’t take away from your goodness.” Placing his hands on Washington’s shoulders Connor liked the feel of hard muscle underneath, “Allow me to show you.”

Connor lent forward and kissed the Commander who gasped in shock. Withdrawing, Connor pressed a large hand over Washington’s mouth to prevent any protests. Washington subsided, eyes wide. His cheeks were flushed. Connor was delighted.

Stroking his free hand over Washington’s front Connor slowly sank to his knees and nuzzled against Washington’s crotch. The sharp gasp was rewarding and so Conor wasted no time, for they had none and had to be careful, and unlaced the Commander’s trousers.

Washington’s cock was half hard and freeing it, Connor was happy to feel it’s length and weight in his hands. As large as Connor’s hands were he had to be careful with his partners, but Washington would be easier, not as delicate.

Giving a practised stroke Connor smirked at Washington’s hiss and carefully squeezed.

“Connor,” panted Washington. Connor glanced up briefly to notice how red Washington had become so quickly. It was satisfying.

 Squeezing again, Connor quickly spat on his hand to aid the process and began moving his fist up and down, alternating the pressure and eliciting delightful moans that Washington thankfully bit down on. They couldn’t afford to be discovered.

With his left hand, Connor cupped the Commander’s balls and massaged them, before ducking his head to lick, a musky taste on his tongue.

The Commander bent his legs a little, clearly fighting to stand. Connor grinned and moving to the delicious fat cock he grasped in his right hand, he noticed the beads of come at the head. Carefully he rubbed his thumb, spreading gently in downward swipes.

The Commander’s cock was now hard and flushed in hand and Connor knew he hadn’t far to go. Out of curiosity Connor dipped down and slid his mouth over that beautiful straining erection. Ah…the heat and fullness was lovely.

Washington almost groaned too loud so Connor hastily scraped his teeth over sensitive flesh as a warning. The Commander subsided and Connor slid off and lapped at the end. Washington’s cock was now shining with spit and semen so Connor wrapped his hand around the thick column and tightening his grip to near painful began to move his hand fast.

Washington’s breathing was laborious and made Connor happy, as did a hasty glance at the Commander’s flushed appearance and disordered necktie from where he must have loosened it.

Hearing the calls of soldiers outside Connor knew he had to finish this, so he cupped again the Commander’s balls and squeezing while stroking Connor growled, putting all the force of command in his tone, “Commander.”

On cue Washington hissed and his cock spurted. Connor was careful not to allow any to spill on him and the resulting mess was on his hands. Standing he allowed the Commander to lean on him while he sought a rag. He found one nearby and used it to clean them both.

Standing above Washington who was now sitting on his bed, Connor smiled. “I hope sir, that this shows you how respected you are. I will hold off anyone until you are yourself again.”

Washington gazed up at him, awe and arousal evident, “Than..Than…Thank you Connor. I much appreciate this.”

The Commander seemed unable to say anything further and closed his eyes and breathed shallowly in an attempt to pull himself together. Pleased he had done his bit, Connor strolled outside and maintained guard until Washington appeared, only a faint reddening in his cheeks a sign of what they had done.

Inclining his head, Connor left in a good mood, content that Lee’s betrayal wouldn’t mar the Commander’s day.

* * *

 

** Note: Underneath is the  ** ** FF.Net Version, which deviates from when Connor's kisses Washington.   
**

….

_Stroking his free hand over Washington’s front_ Connor skilfully unbuttoned the heavy jacket. Yanking it open Connor heard Washington protest, “Connor.”

Raising an eyebrow, Connor again placed a hand over the Commander-in-Chief’s mouth, “Sir, please. I assure you that you will enjoy this.”

When Washington finally nodded Connor removed his hand and watched as the man bit his lip. Content that Washington wouldn’t frustrate his efforts any further Connor loosened the necktie and shirt of the Commander-in-Chief.

A strong broad chest was revealed, a few scars littering the bronzed flesh. An idea flashed into Connor’s mind and smirking, he lowered his head and lapped at the scars.

Washington moaned lowly at the sensation that Connor knew was exquisite, a hot tongue over sensitive flesh was a beautiful mixture of pain and pleasure.

Continuing, Connor licked and bit his way up and down Washington’s chest, paying especial attention to nipples, which caused the biggest and most dangerous moaning. At that, Connor returned to kissing Washington, one hand cupping Washington’s head the other hand splayed on Washington’s back, underneath his shirt, stroking muscle. Connor pressed _hard_ against Washington, allowing the man to feel his hardness.

Forcibly pushing a leg in-between the Commander-in-Chief’s, Connor grinned into the kiss and nipped at swollen lips. Washington panted into his kiss and Connor felt him undulate against his thigh.

“Enjoying yourself Sir?”

Washington just gasped in response, squeezing shut his eyes as Connor began nuzzling at his throat, suckling at the point above his collarbone which would be well-concealed. Connor licked and nipped, all the time shifting his leg back and forth in-between the Commander-in-Chief’s shaking legs.

It was wonderful and intoxicating, yet the voices of soldiers outside Connor knew he had to finish this so he surged forward, squeezing the Commander-in-Chief close against him and pressing his leg almost painfully up against the conspicuous bulge.

Biting down on the raw spot he had been working on Connor felt Washington groan and jerk against him and suddenly relax as the tension drained from him. Connor hadn’t thought he would come so quickly, but delighted he withdrew.

Washington was lax, face flushed and eyes glazed. Helping the Commander-in-Chief to his bed Connor smiled. “I hope sir, that this shows you how respected you are. I will hold off anyone until you are yourself again.”

Washington gazed up at him, awe and arousal evident, “Than..Than…Thank you Connor. I much appreciate this.”

He  seemed unable to say anything further and closed his eyes and breathed shallowly in an attempt to pull himself together. Pleased he had done his bit, Connor strolled outside and maintained guard until Washington appeared, only a faint reddening in his cheeks a sign of what they had done.

Inclining his head, Connor left in a good mood, content that Lee’s betrayal wouldn’t mar the Commander’s day.

 

 


	10. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this [prompt where](http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2158.html?thread=11413614#cmt11413614) Charles misreads Connor’s obsession with trying to find him and now Connor has to deal with Charles feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written crack before so I hope this is okay! This is pure silliness (I hope) and really not to be taken seriously, timeline: what timeline? The lords a-leaping are cuckoos and are the birds of misrule. So you can say, I took misrule and used ‘misinterpretation’?

* * *

 

_On the Tenth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

…10 Lords a Leaping

 

  **Obsession**

**How it Begins**

 

Charles counted to ten ere he eased out from his hidden position. He was on a roof of all places, far too high for Charles’ liking, nestled in a small space between two adjoining walls. Haytham had discovered it and showed Charles ‘just in case’.

It had paid off just now as he ran from a pesky assassin, though Charles never thought he would be running from Haytham’s son.

Peering extremely cautiously down into the alley Charles saw a marvellous sight:

Connor was racing up and down the alley, dodging around the same people that had aided Charles in losing Connor’s pursuit and stopping every other one demanding “Where is Lee?”

Another favourite appeared to be: “Do you know this man?!” and waving a paper (sketch? mused Charles) in the alarmed person’s face.

“I must find him!”

Charles was stunned at the amount of desperation in Connor’s voice. Did he really mean that much to the assassin? But why? Curious, Charles leaned over more, ensuring he made no sound or dislodged any loose leaves.

Connor had slowed and was furiously turning in a circle until he cried “Give me Lee!”

Frustration and plea all bound into one. Falling back Charles was left stunned…Connor wanted…him…

That had to be it surely? What other reason could there be? The Assassin seemed to be utterly devastated that he had lost Charles and left, looking rather like a kicked dog. Sympathy bloomed in Charles and he rubbed his chest.

It felt strange to be wanted so badly that Connor was actually hurt when he couldn’t have Charles. Intrigued and struggling with the new emotions swirling inside, Charles waited for Connor to leave and then clambered down.

He made his way back to his Templar brothers slowly, avoiding detection and once there he causally made inquiries into one Connor.

Thankfully, it wasn’t hard…after all, how many Native Americans were running around New York?

That evening, as Charles surveyed his report he was struck with the realisation that Connor had been tracking him for months and was so obsessed he asked for Charles everywhere. A warm sensation pooled in Charles’ belly and he rubbed a hand nervously across his beard. The knowledge someone was obsessed with him, desired him so much that he spent all his time in tracing him was foreign. Charles was used to obsessing over others; well to be honest just Haytham, but such emotions had never been returned.

Charles stood and poured a drink, the liquid reassuring. Charles couldn’t shake off that pleasant feeling of being wanted, especially after such a long time and a sudden gratefulness welled within. He had to pay Connor back, show how much he appreciated the lad in doing this and, Charles lowered the glass, shivering slightly, prove that his own feelings were growing and could be cultivated.

Mind made up, Charles began planning how he could show Connor his sentiments were returned, if not wholly like his own yet.

 

* * *

**At Washington’s Camp**

 

Connor walked away from Washington’s tent, frustrated that his warnings against Lee were not taken seriously. He might have to reveal the true nature of the forces at work against Washington and…

Connor froze. He had just entered the tent that the Commander-in-Chief had given him to discover his bed was full of…

“Weapons?”

Glancing around Connor searched his quarters, nothing moved and no other item seemed out of place. Whoever had been here was gone now. Warily Connor edged to his bed and stared in disbelief at the array of dangerous instruments.

Daggers; a couple of swords, one an old fashioned broadsword the other a sabre; an actual bow with a finely sewn quiver and deadly looking arrows; there were even a couple of pistols.

Gaping Connor selected a dagger and was impressed by the sharpness of the blade. The bow was beautiful even though it wasn’t in the style Connor preferred. What was going on? Who would do this? Connor could only presume Washington would, but why?

Then he noticed the folded note, tucked under his pillow so only the corner protruded and Connor snatched it.

_May these weapons bring you a fine aim and grant you what you want._

_Yours,_

_Charles Lee_

This had to be a sick joke. Why would Charles Lee be giving him presents _to kill him with_?

The man was mad. Crumpling the note Connor turned and sped from his tent and surveyed the camp-site. Nothing, no Lee unless…was that him on the horse riding out?

“Lee!” Connor yelled, but was prevented from bolting after the General by a hand on his arm. He looked into Washington’s face, he bore a serious demeanour. “I must ask that you do not chase my General, Connor. I understand you have differences, but I need to be sure and I also require him to take control of a situation. He can hardly do that if you’re chasing him now?”

Connor was speechless, more-so at Lee’s causal wave. Then Lee was riding away and his chance evaporated. Connor read the note again; it had to be Templar trick that’s what, nothing else.

 

* * *

 

**The Inn**

 

Two days later warm air enveloped Connor and he sighed. It was pleasing to be out of the cold, autumn had ended fast and winter was biting already. Shaking off a few snow flurries Connor quickly grabbed a seat and ordered a hot meal.

Shovelling food down Connor knew he would have to rest a couple of hours then go to his father. He had promised to work with the man in the hope that his father might still be saved.

As he ate he heard a voice he knew. Hardly believing his fortune Connor raised his eyes and witnessed Charles Lee sitting only a few tables away eating with John Pitcairn if he wasn’t mistaken.

Good, he could finish this now.

Reaching silently for his dagger in case his hidden blade failed, he couldn’t bear to lose this opportunity, Connor was about to stand when Lee looked over and caught his gaze. For some reason the man blushed and then actually rose. Connor thought he might come over, but instead Lee approached the bar.

There was some discussion with the maid there who nodded and Lee retreated and smiled at him. Connor recalled the presents of two days ago and considered the possibility that Lee was mad as delicately hinted at by Washington upon Connor’s quite reasonable complaints.

A throat clearing made Connor break contact, thankfully before Pitcairn noticed their antics and he turned to the maid. The young girl smiled shyly at him and murmured, “A tea sir and oh, the gentleman over there has paid for your meal, said that you were an old friend and he had to pay respects to that.”

Connor was sure he had heard wrong and repeated, “Friend?”

The maid’s confusion at his harshness was evident, “Y,yes sir.”

Connor realised he was frightening her and nodded. Examining his drink suspiciously Connor glanced up and saw Lee flicking nervous glances over, red cheeks obvious.

Connor felt for his dagger, this had to be an elaborate trick. He would go over there and-

“Son.” Connor broke eye contact and looked up at his father who was frowning. “Finish eating so we may continue.”

“You said two hours father.”

“Times change. Eat.”

As Haytham arranged his cloak Connor ignored Lee, the man was clearly trying to bait him, there couldn’t be any alternative explanation.

 

* * *

**Working Together**

Five days after the inn found the Templar brethren gathered in an underground safe-location.

“I expect you to work cohesively and without any arguments, do you understand?” His father’s voice was cold and commanding.

Connor nodded reluctantly, unfortunately his father was correct. The mission was too important to waste on petty rivalries or revenge. He looked at Lee, his revenge would have to wait for later.

Lee meanwhile agreed wholeheartedly. Connor wasn’t sure what was worse, spending time with Lee or spending time with Lee and his father. Only so much hero-worship a man could take witnessing.

As it was, Connor found himself alone with Lee, his father glaring at him to behave and darting a fast nod at Lee.

The minute they were alone, Lee stepped closer, so close Connor could feel Lee’s heat. He reeked of his dogs unfortunately and Connor gritted his teeth. Lee’s eyes were very blue this close and Connor felt a chill, they were full of adoration.

Lee knew he wasn’t Haytham right?

“Lee?” His voice cracked a little and Connor endured a fresh surge of annoyance at Lee.

Lee however, just smiled happily as if name being said by the man who wanted to kill him was a gift. “Yes Connor?”

“Are you well?” Connor had to ask, Lee’s eyes were shining and he was trembling.

“Indeed I am. Thank you for inquiring,” Lee had a ridiculously pleased smile on his face.

This was peculiar and Connor felt as if he had been left with an unpredictable animal, a cat perhaps, which after purring at you might claw you once it’s had enough.

“Then let’s start the mission.”

Lee grinned and fell into contented pace. Connor stole glances at Lee because this was beyond strange. Lee was acting as if they were friends and not noticing Connor’s wary reactions, rather he appeared to interpret all of it as a sign of friendship.

It was only once they had succeeded in bypassing the sentinels at the post and had retrieved the paperwork that Connor knew without a doubt that Lee was either a madman or a genius in mental torture.

They had ran around the side of a nearby barn and were catching breath when Lee straightened and scrutinised him. He seemed appalled by what he saw for he again stepped close and raised his hands. Connor tensed, flexing his wrist to release the hidden blade.

Gently, Lee’s hands corrected his askew garments and with love brushed off bits of dirt. “There, that’s much better, isn’t it Connor?”

Lee’s eyes were wide and hopeful, almost bursting with pride as if his actions displayed some twisted show of care and attention to a family member or one of his pet dogs.

Connor was struck again speechless, Lee was possessed he had to be. Or maybe he was a skinwalker?

Just as Lee’s smile began to fade into worry and Connor was attempting to think of something to say his father for once interfered at the right moment. “Charles! Connor!”

Connor immediately responded, pushing past a disappointed (what on earth?) Lee. Fathers were apparently useful for some things.

 

* * *

**Bed-time**

Ten days after he had first pursued Lee into an alley and had been experiencing strange events ever since, Connor was weary. The day had been long and arduous, filled with assisting those damn Templars. He was growing tired of this treaty and of Lee’s frankly alarming behaviour.

Entering his room in his father’s house, Connor was about to undress when he realised his bed was occupied.

Not by weapons no.

Charles Lee was lying in bed, covers drawn up.

He smiled slowly and sensually. fear clutched Connor’s heart.

“Hello Connor,” the man purred, eye half closed, “Allow me to assist.”

“What are you doing in my bed Lee?”

Lee licked his lips, “Charles, Connor, you may call me Charles. And I’m here to show you how I appreciate your obsession with me. It’s nice being noticed and I did trying showing you earlier, but my efforts I believe went astray.”

Lee stretched, the cover sliding down to reveal a naked chest. “So, here I am, for your pleasure.”

Connor wanted very much to collapse, because it all made sense, horrible, stunning sense.

Lee had mistaken his obsession with finding him to exact revenge as having a fondness for him…a desire for his person. Connor might be sick and staring at Lee, he noticed how clean Lee looked, hair not greasy, moustache and beard trimmed and groomed.

Damn, it was all true. Connor licked his lips, dry as his mouth was and knew he had to act. As if following his thoughts Lee flushed and shifted in his bed.

“Am I displeasing? How would you prefer me?”

Connor choked. _Lee’s mad. The Commander-in-Chief warned me. I should have listened._

He studied Lee’s bewildered posture and shuddered, _I can’t kill someone so obviously deranged._

He had to answer and end this now. “Stay there Lee. Wait, put some clothes on.” Lee was confused and hurt.

“Why?”

Connor thought fast, “Because I want to take you somewhere.”

Lee smiled and Connor looked away as Lee slipped out and began dressing. He would take Lee to his father, the man was always defending Lee to Connor, and well he could defend Lee by stopping this madness and protecting the bastard from himself.

Grabbing a mercifully attired Lee, Connor pulled Lee out of his room and down the corridor, trying to be soothing and hoping his father didn’t blame him for this mess.

 

**Extra**

**(Takes place before ‘Bed-Time)**

**Charles paced, nothing he did worked on Connor. Were his methods too subtle? Or did they injure his Native sensibilities?**

**Striding past the mirror in his room Charles paused at sight of his reflection. He saw his greasy complexion and messy clothes and sniffing Charles flushed. He probably smelt of dog.**

**He didn’t mind but perhaps Connor did. He ought to clean…**

**That’s it! Charles grinned hugely at his reflection, he would wash and present himself to Connor. The warrior would know then that Charles was willing and appreciative of his longing through personal maintenance.**

**Charles went in search of a razor and soap.**

**Soon Connor would understand. Soon.**

 

 

 

 


	11. Adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Thomas worship the Grandmaster as he deserves, or at least Charles shows the proper reverence, Thomas as usual is a dick about it. (slight bottom!Haytham)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my friend who requested Thomas/Haytham/Charles threesome, with Thomas and Charles lavishing attention on Haytham and bottom!Haytham if possible. Well, I hope that I have succeeded even if the bottom!Haytham is slight!
> 
> The pipers can represent nightingales that represent duality & eleven for luck.

* * *

_On the Eleventh Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Eleven Pipers Piping_

** Adoration **

Haytham sighed, reclining on his bed, legs dangling over the end, utterly naked. The lamps were lit in the room as it was dark outside, so everything had an orange-yellow glow, including the skin of his most devout follower: Charles Lee.

The man was on his knees at the edge of the bed, face flushed, bright blue eyes shining with awe and lust. He was undressed, pale skin showing the marks of a soldier’s life: scars from bullet wounds and sword strokes, one particular bullet wound a web of healed tissue just under his left shoulder.

Haytham liked it, for it was reassuring to know his men had seen battle and were somewhat experienced in battle. However, it wasn’t Charles’ skills on the field Haytham wished to test; it was his ability to put his silver tongue to work on a certain part of Haytham’s anatomy.

They weren’t alone however and Haytham smiled as he felt a supple body slide in behind him, supporting so he could relax.

“Thomas,” murmured Haytham, twisting to see the normally inebriated man sober and grinning devilishly. He could feel every inch of Thomas’ muscled chest and it brought a coil of pleasure to Haytham’s belly.

His cock twitched with interest and Thomas smirked, “Hey Charlie, looks like I can get a response quicker than you.”

Haytham saw the angry flush suffuse Charles’ cheeks and his eyes actually shone more brightly. _Beautiful._

“I’m sure Master Kenway will approve of my efforts.”

“Indeed,” Haytham reached down and slid his fingers into Charles black hair enjoying the sensation, “I think it’s time to put your tongue to good use.”

Charles nodded and eagerly, yet gently, pushed Haytham’s legs apart. He cupped Haytham’s cock, already half-hard, and brushed a thumb over the head. Haytham hissed, that had been good, he had felt it right to the base.

Glancing up, Charles’ expression made Haytham lose a modicum of control and moan. Damn it all, the absolute adoration and desperation to please was more satisfying than a good neat kill.

At his moan Charles went red with delight and hope, and lowering his head he licked at Haytham’s cock. Charles spent a breathless moment lapping at the head before moving down, licking a trail from the head to the base and back up.

It was fucking good and Haytham leaned against Thomas, tilting his head back only slightly so he could watch Charles through half-lidded eyes.

Thomas took this opportunity to run his broad hands over Haytham’s chest, which Haytham was pleased to note was well toned through years of training and _use_.

Thomas pinched at his nipples and Haytham shuddered, causing Thomas to grunt, “Oi, I knew you liked pain. You rich buggers usually do.”

“Thomas!” snarled Charles, his breath caressing Haytham’s dick, making Haytham spread his legs more.

Thomas smirked against Haytham’s neck, nuzzling the juncture as he raked his nails over sensitive skin, “What? Speaking the truth Charlie or are you upset I’m already gaining a reaction?”

Charles frowned and glanced at Haytham. The mixture of arousal and frustration was exquisite and Haytham had no desire to comfort Charles until Charles’ emotions paid in renewed vigour.

Flustered Charles ducked his head and immediately swallowed Haytham’s length. The burning heat of Charles’ mouth was glorious and Haytham arched up to meet Thomas’ opportunistic bite on the shoulder, where it wouldn’t be noticed.

As Charles worked his mouth, sucking hard, Haytham forcibly kept his eyes open and watched memorised as Charles with great care and precision ensured his teeth never scraped his length and that he slowly took all of Haytham in.

At this point Haytham gripped his hand in Charles’s hard and yanked Charles back a little then pushed him down his dick.

Charles choked but then managed to breathe and flicking his eyes up, promised to give Haytham the ride of his life. He cupped Haytham’s balls and massaged them in time with Haytham’s thrusts. The heat and tightness was glorious and Haytham realised he would orgasm all too soon if he continued so he slowed and stopped, eyeing Charles who swallowed reflexively around his cock, before realising that matters were now in his hands.

Charles didn’t fail him, and he began alternating in simply sucking or pulling off so the cooler air against his heated flesh made Haytham shiver, ere then lapping the entire length.

Charles neglected not a single spot and even rubbed his nose and cheeks against his straining cock.

As if such adoration wasn’t sufficient, Thomas was busy in biting his way down Haytham’s chest, trapping the Grandmaster against him, so Haytham could only squirm and arch up. Thomas’ nails scraped over his chest and his erect cock rubbed against his lower back, leaving a smear of pre-come. It was a fantastic combination and Haytham revelled in the joys of such focused attention.

Haytham felt the pressure building in his stomach as he approached his release and groaned, “Charles…”

Somehow Charles seemed to understand for he redoubled his efforts and pulling off hastily shoved his fingers in his mouth and sucked. Removing his right hand he bent and swallowed Haytham’s flushed and full cock. With his left hand he squeezed Haytham’s balls and Haytham snarled and then…

Fingers pressing just behind the base of his cock, seeking his entrance and Haytham shuddered. It was hot and teasing, long fingers dipping between his cheeks and Charles darted his fingertips over his entrance, not pushing in, only stoking the fire in his belly.

Thomas took advantage and kissed Haytham hard, thrusting his tongue in his mouth in a copy of Charles sucking his cock.

It was too much and Haytham moaned into Thomas’ mouth as he came. Thomas kissed harder, biting at Haytham’s lips and then mouthing at his throat. Haytham could feel Charles gulping his hot seed and the sensation for his overly sensitive cock was a measure of pain and beauty.

Thomas’ slick slide of come down the small of his back was delicious.

Charles released him and Thomas also shifted, arms still supporting Haytham. Breathing heavily, Haytham glanced at Charles who had fallen back on his heels, his own cock was red and by the flicker of pain in Charles’ face, so close to coming he was surely in discomfort.

His eyes however, displayed nothing, but hope that he had done well and in taking in Haytham’s appearance, happiness and pride. The sudden request in Charles mesmerising eyes was dizzy inducing through the power it presented.

Aroused by the obedience even if he couldn’t ah…rise to the occasion, Haytham simply said, “Come Charles.”

Charles whimpered and closing a hand over his cock he barely had to stroke before he was spilling white. Shuddering, Haytham closed his legs and ordered Thomas to desist. Shifting up the bed Haytham rearranged everything so he could lie down, just this once he would clean up in the morning.

 Weary and happily stated Haytham beckoned for Charles to climb onto the bed and Charles rapidly clambered up, pressing nervously against Haytham, eyes wide and watchful, clearly asking whether this was permitted.

Haytham smiled and nodded, “Come here Charles. Thomas.”

Thomas grunted, but nuzzled closer, draping an arm across Haytham, while Charles tentatively slid one arm over his abdomen. His calloused fingers stroked over Haytham’s stomach and Haytham gave a pleased murmur at the soothing motion of Charles’ actions. 

Charles’ obvious awe at being allowed to hold his Grandmaster and touch him were evident and Haytham discovered once gain how much he enjoyed being near worshipped. It was a sensation he would have to explore further at later opportunities.

Glancing at the wall opposite he noticed the picture of eleven nightingales and chuckled. Birds who sang night and day and eleven was meant to be a lucky number he had heard a superstitious sailor say. Well, he certainly had luck in encountering Thomas and Charles and he had every intention of continuing both night and day with their good fortune.

With that Haytham settled down for a sleep, ensconced in the arms of one devout believer and one man who treated him normally. 

 


	12. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had won. It was over. The future had arrived. GEN. Complete AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.| I am not overly familiar by any means on the American War of Independence, so if I have made an error please point it out! There is only a slight allusion to it, however I would rather it be right than not!
> 
> 2.| The bird connected with the Twelfth Day is usually considered to be the snipe. Twelve is the number of completion so brings the song to an end. Snipes drum in the spring so it can be considered a reminder that spring is coming and new life, new beginnings are coming. 
> 
> 3.| Just for further information, the reference I have used for some of the 12 Days is here: http://www.icyousee.org/twelvebirds.html 
> 
> Templar!Connor, short & only sweet I suppose if you’re a Templar! ; )

* * *

_On the Twelfth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…_

_…Twelve Drummers Drumming_

**A New Beginning**

_April 1783_

Haytham surveyed the lines of troops of the newly independent America. Only a short few months ago a treaty had been signed between Britain and America, formally ending the war and handing the former colonies fully to America.

It had been a boon for the Templars, making it easier for them to act. Already the war had permitted them to sink their roots into the fertile opportunities that America had offered.

William had managed to forge alliances with the Natives who had finally realised that in comparison to many white men, the Templars would treat them better, if only for their own gain.

Thomas had managed somehow, through his drunken behaviour; to nurture his projects and either bully or make friends with his contacts. They now had control of New York and most of the Eastern side of America.

John Pitcairn had been invaluable as a solider on the ground, ferreting through the ranks and eking out sympathetic ears. They could be assured of friends in all areas of politics, including the halls of Presidency.

“Father?”

Haytham smiled and turned. His son was donned in his Native attire, wolf skin draped over his head and shoulders and face marked for war. He was every inch the warrior, years of training at his father’s hands reflected in his posture, honed muscles and alert eyes.

“Yes son?”

Connor held out a box, grasped in his two hands. “It is done; I have found what we seek.”

Haytham inhaled sharply and stared at the box, wonder alive in his heart, “Excellent my boy, I knew I had taught you well. Did you meet any protest?”

Connor shook his head, a grim look on his face. “No, I had no difficulty.”

Haytham studied his boy and was pleased to note that there were no fresh scars or injuries. He did care for his son and while he had no regret in sending him on dangerous missions, it was always a relief when he did return.

“Then let us re-join our brethren. Charles ought to be arriving soon.”

Connor nodded and carefully restored the box to his leather bag tied tightly to his horse. Haytham called for his steed, held by a waiting solider, and mounting the beast they both turned and rode down the valley side.

Rich grass wet from recent rain, but rapidly drying in the spring sun, made the descent a little slippery but both men were expert horsemen and it was quick work to reach the path at the bottom.

They rode alongside the marching men, heading to the front. There Haytham caught Pitcairn’s gaze. The Scot pulled his horse over and Haytham whispered, “Meeting in our Headquarters this evening. Spread the word.”

Pitcairn inclined his head, “Sir.”

Swiftly he broke ranks and rode off and Haytham smiled.

It seemed the Father of Understanding favoured them, for this had come at a time when none of the group were widely separated by their duties, but close by. Encouraged by this Haytham kept his eyes peeled for any stray Assassins; every so often one of them would try and rise, only to be ultimately defeated.

He never knew why they persisted, their ideology lent itself to self-destruction while the Templar idea laid the grounds for constant re-birth. They only required men or women to recognise the world for what it was and then act on this realisation.

The Assassins had to indoctrinate. How pitiful. Yet now they could at last act and show the Assassins this truth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon Haytham and Connor left the marching men and urged their steeds through the populace until they reached the Headquarters of the Templar Order.

It was actually a pleasant looking house that Haytham had purchased a number of years ago. He and Connor lived in it the most, with Charles joining them when orders did not carry him further afield.

William favoured lodgings closer to the town’s outskirts and it did prove beneficial for when Thomas visited, for he stayed then at William’s abode. Otherwise, Thomas lived on site of his operations, New York.

John was again normally travelling, but he too resided with Haytham and Connor when he was in town.

Dismounting Haytham guarded his son as he too dismounted and retrieved his leather bag. Both of them were highly vigilant as they entered the house and it wasn’t until they had reached Haytham’s study that they relaxed.

Connor immediately sat, Haytham meanwhile went to the door and called for a maid.

“Please have six teas brought here and a beer as well.”

“Beer father?”

Haytham raised an eyebrow, “Thomas, son. Can’t have him going thirsty.”

Connor frowned, mouth twisted. Haytham would have laughed if it weren’t unseemly to do so. “I see you still disapprove of Thomas’ drinking habit.”

“It’s an empty life.”

“Thomas doesn’t think so.”

“Lee agrees.”

“Ah…well, Charles always did find Thomas difficult to work with unless they were overseeing prisoners.”

Connor shifted, his wolf skin gave the illusion of gleaming eyes and his entire outfit seemed alive. A precisely created illusion that Haytham saw through, but appreciated the fear it inspired in other men and women.

“Lee has taste,” was his matter-of-fact response.

“Indeed.” Haytham never ceased to be amused by Charles and Connor’s frustrations with Thomas, which thankfully remained cordial, unless unfortunately Thomas instigated some foolish prank. Then Haytham had to have William clean up after Thomas, or sometimes clear the air himself and soothe his ruffled Second-in-Command and son.

Connor rolled his eyes and put his boots up. Haytham wondered how his son managed to keep doing that after all the years he had spent attempting to instil manners.

“I am sure you do that on purpose son.”

Connor grinned, “Maybe, Father.”

Sighing Haytham was about to reply when there was a knock.

“Come in!” The door opened to reveal the maid with a tray laden with three teapots, five cups and saucers and a glass of beer and on her heels Charles.

Haytham waited for the tray to be placed on the side table and for the door to shut before welcoming Charles. Embracing his friend of over twenty years Haytham permitted a small laugh.

“It is good to see you Charles. How are you? How fares matters on your side?”

Charles pulled back and his smile was equal; he had changed over the years, hair and beard scruffy, but the eyes were the same piercing blue and the flame of conviction in them burned just as strong.

“It is good to see you too, Haytham. I am well and all goes perfectly. Washington listens closely to me, as I have done my best to conceal any resentment and instead nurture simply admiration and respect.”

“Good,” Haytham stepped back, using his left hand to steer Charles further into the study.

“Washington? We are definitely not going to kill him?” Connor asked incredulously.

Haytham looked at his son as Charles leaned against the fireplace, “No, Charles and I after some discussion decided that since Washington is so popular with the masses, we can use that popularity for our purposes, better than spending time building Charles up, especially in light of his British blood.”

Charles nodded in agreement, “Washington has always refused to believe any antagonism on my side and is quick to forgiveness. Better to ingratiate myself and promote the Templar cause than flounder for a number of years, particularly as the war is now won and America is free.”

Connor shrugged, “As you wish.”

Charles grinned, evidently amused by Connor’s reluctant concession, “It is nice to know you are in my quarter Connor.”

Connor sneered and he did appear wolfish. Charles laughed. Haytham felt a warm glow suffuse him. It was good having his closest companions here and when the others arrived their circle would be complete.

Charles now caught his eye and Haytham saw the curiosity there. Yet Charles didn’t voice his questions and just contented himself with filling them in on his latest ventures.

It was a pleasant way to spend the next few minutes until John, William and Thomas filed in. Once the door shut on Thomas, tea was served and Haytham beckoned them closer.

On cue Charles secured the windows and his son checked the door. Satisfied, Connor returned and stood next to his father. Haytham noticed Charles fiddling with the latch and when he had succeeded said, “Charles, beside me.”

“Oi little dog,” teased Thomas who was instantly shused by William and a cold glare from Haytham. Charles just swallowed in annoyance and walked around to stand at Haytham’s right.

Haytham relaxed, it was only proper that his Second-In-Command was beside him and on the other side his son, when he revealed the treasure they had been seeking their entire lives here.

“Gentlemen,” Haytham spoke softly, “My son, Connor, has found what we have sought these past twenty years.”

All the men gasped and Haytham could see from the corner of his Charles flush in excitement and lean forward.

Opening the leather bag Haytham withdrew the object, “Behold the Apple, a Piece of Eden. With it we will control the world and usher in Order and Peace. We have succeeded.”

A golden light spilled from the device and Haytham shivered. An immense power filled him, moved through him and he saw much: Villages, towns and cities all neat and ordered, people living their lives without fear or pain.

He witnessed his companions laughing and enjoying their time. He saw children playing freely. 

Through the golden fog of imagery he saw the awed expressions of his companions and the joy growing in them. Curling his fingers Haytham breathed shallowly and with effort focused his thoughts until he had better control. The fog receded and Haytham smiled.

Excellent. He would train and his control would subsequently grow.

Looking at Charles he saw the hope for the future that was harboured in his own heart, reflected in his friend’s face and voice.

“So at last we can act, Haytham.”

“Yes, Charles.” Holding the Apple aloft Haytham said calmly, “First we will destroy the Assassin Brotherhood forever. Then and only then, will all men and women know and taste freedom.”

Connor stretched and smirked, “So it shall be Father.” He raised his tea, rolling his eyes as he did so, “To the end of the Assassins and to the succession of the Templar Order.”

Hunger burned in his dark eyes and low voice; the light from the fireplace danced across his face and it was if he was a wolf.

Haytham smiled at his son’s bloodlust, “Welcome my brethren to the future.”

“To the future!” chorused his companions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and / or left kudos! It has made my experience writing this so much more fun. : )
> 
> Thanks also to anyone who left a request; I enjoyed the challenges that provided (and also the opportunity in one case of writing Ziio, that was great).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the last instalment and um, the Templar heavy basis.


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